How To Fall A Million Different Ways
by squarened
Summary: Bella moves to Forks her junior year of high school, and meets Edward, a boy with tired eyes and a past that haunts him. While Bella tries her damnedest to get to know him, Edward shies from her, fearing his own infatuation with her. Letting go isn't easy
1. chapter 1

Chapter 1: Bella

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Twilight universe. I'm just messing with it :D

**Chapter 1: Bella**

I checked through my bag for the third time this morning, to make sure I didn't forget anything for my first day at Forks High School.

I ran through my mental checklist of things I absolutely _had _to remember.

Four spiral-bound, college ruled notebooks? Check.

Pencils? Check.

Red pen? Check.

Black Pen? Check.

Eraser? Check.

_I have everything_, I thought, as I forced open the decrepit and rusty door of my piece of junk car (as much as I loved it, I couldn't deny, what it was). Yet, I couldn't help but feel that I was forgetting something important. I went through the checklist again two more times, before giving up and slamming the door shut.

What would have made this so much easier would be if I weren't so _nervous_. My stomach churned and twisted. _I think I'm going to be sick_, I thought with a little too much enthusiasm. Maybe I'd throw up and have to go home. Maybe I was contracting some super contagious virus.

My problem here was that I didn't throw up, or anything as I shuffled my way to the front office to pick up my schedule. The office was much warmer than the chilly and surly whether that's as natural for Forks as the brilliant sun is for Phoenix. I felt a vague pang at the thought of my previous home. It wasn't like I forgot my purpose for coming here. It was just I didn't exactly move to my most hated place on earth because I really wanted to. I did it for my mom, really. She needed to have a life with Phil, her husband of only one year. I felt like I was just getting in the way, what with her feeling obligated to stay with me while Phil traveled, for his minor league baseball team. She acted like she didn't miss Phil as much as she did. I saw right through her though, and wondered why she even bothered trying to cover it up at all; it was just so obvious.

There was a long, faux wood-grain topped desk that ran the length of the little office. Wire baskets held brightly colored leaflets and flyers, one of them warning students to get their yearbooks while they were still cheap (_That's right, only 50.00!), _and another was a permission slip for a field trip to the Seattle Art Museum (_Extra credit for all art students!). _A heavy-set woman with a lavender blouse, curly red hair, and a pair of cat-eye glasses perched on top of her hair looked up at me as I entered, and smiled, warmly.

"Hello, there. Can I help you, dear?" she asked, leaning forward slightly in her seat.

"Um, yes, actually," I said, as I approached the desk, with trepidation. "I'm new."

She froze for a moment before realization dawned on her face. "Oh! You must be Isabella swan, then," she concluded.

"Bella," I corrected, automatically.

"Welcome to Forks," she greeted. "How do you like it so far?"

"Um, it's –it's great," I lied, unconvincingly, I might add.

Her smile broadened, creating more creases around her slightly sagging cheeks. "That's wonderful. Now, you need your schedule?" she asked, moving on rather abruptly.

"Yeah, uh, that's what I need," I said, eloquent, as always.

"Wonderful," she repeated, though I wasn't really sure what was 'wonderful' about needing a schedule. "You'll just have to wait one moment."

I nodded and went to sit in one of the hard folding chairs, with stiff cushions on the back, and seat. They were located right underneath a large, tinted window. I twisted in my seat to peer broodingly up at the angry looking storm clouds. I noticed a large anvil shaped mass surging forward at a sluggish, and ominous pace. I remembered learning in science how the anvil shaped clouds, always carried a storm. I wrinkled my nose in distaste and turned my attention to the now arriving students. The parking lot had been pretty much empty when I got in, but cars were now steadily trickling in.

My jalopy, to my delighted surprise didn't stand out as much as I thought it would; most of the cars were older and about as crusty looking as mine, if not more. The shiniest and newest looking car in the whole parking lot was a silver Volvo, and it really stood out.

"Isabella?" the receptionist called.

I was about to correct her again, but then thought better of it. I got up and went to the desk again. She handed me my schedule, with another one of those smiles and pointed to a metal wire basket that contained maps of the school. I snagged one quickly before thanking her and exiting the office. I held my schedule up close to my face and squinted at the clear and precise type. I had English first. Well, that should be easy, I thought. Call me a dork, but English always has been my favorite subject.

I began to make my way over to the building and was closely inspecting the map when I bumped into someone. "Oops. Crap. Sorry," I said in a rush as I disentangled myself from the person.

"No worries," said a husky male voice. I looked up to see a tall gawky looking guy, with hair that was as black and seemed to have the same consistency as an oil slick. Blotchy pockmarks covered his face. "My fault. I wasn't paying attention."

I was about to point out that I hadn't really been paying any mind to my surroundings either when he cut me off. "Hey, are you lost?"

"Er, well, no. I'm just looking for the English building." I said it like a question, like I didn't even know where I was going. All I really wanted to do was make my way to the building on my own with out any random, overly eager, helper, whom I would probably have to introduce myself to, consequently –and surely- at some point making myself look less than competent.

"I'm on my way over to the English building myself," the pimply boy said with a smile. "I'll help you find it. Once you know where it is, it's not hard to find."

_No, really?_ I thought to myself. "Hmm," was how I replied, instead. I wondered if there was a diplomatic way to tell some one to buzz off.

"So, are you new here? I don't recognize you," the boy said, striking up conversation.

"Yeah, I'm new, I guess," I answered.

"Where'd you move from?" was his brilliant follow up question.

"I used to live in Arizona," I supplied.

He raised his eyebrows. "Arizona? Wow. This must be quite a shock to your system." He looked up pointedly at the encroaching storm clouds.

I shrugged. "Yeah."

He looked down at me again. "You're really from Arizona?" he asked then, his voice slightly suspicious.

I frowned, bemused. "Yeah. Why?"

"Huh." He said. "Well, it's just I thought you'd be real tan from all that sun, you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm half albino," I joked flatly.

He looked down at me again, speculating my pale complexion, as if putting it together in his mind. "Really."

I rolled my eyes again. "No."

"Oh," he said, embarrassed. He didn't talk for the rest of the walk to the room. I felt kind of bad, but when we stopped outside of a door he said, "I'm Eric, by the way. Eric Yorkie." He stuck out his hand for me to shake.

I awkwardly shifted my schedule and map to my other and hiked my bag higher up my shoulder before shaking his hand. He pumped my hand once, before letting it drop. "I'm Bella Swan," I said.

"Oh! You're the Chief's daughter, right?" he asked.

"Yeah."

An awkward silence passed between us then he said, "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah," I said. "Later."

I was disappointed to see that most of the books on the required reading list I'd read. It was just the usual bit, of Earnest Hemmingway, Nathanial Hawthorne, Shakespeare, and Charles Dickens. Well, at least I was well prepared, I thought somewhat dismally as I watched flecks of rain tick against the window.

Government was as boring as I expected it would be. I zoned out during the period and thought about groceries and ironing and the clothes I still had to unpack.

Trigonometry was surprisingly an improvement, though the teacher, Mr. Varner didn't strike me as a particularly pleasant person, and even went as far as to subject me to introducing myself in front of the class. I went to sit in the back but he quickly halted me, pointing to an empty seat next to a short girl with wildly curly, dark hair. She grinned when I sat down next to her. I returned the smile, stiffly.

She passed me a note, when the teacher began his lecture that read:

_So, you're Chief Swan's daughter, right? Isabella?_

I read the note quickly before jotting down my response underneath her question:

_I prefer 'Bella - but yes, I'm Chief Swan's daughter._

I passed my note to her and she scanned it quickly before writing back:

_Do you have friends here?_

I scribbled a simple "no" and she made a sympathetic sound before passing me another note that said:

_Why don't you have lunch with my friends and me? It would be totally cool if you did. I'm sure everyone wants to meet you. I mean, we don't get new kids all that often around here._

I considered refusing, for a moment, before I wrote:

_Of course, I'd love to._

She smiled emphatically, before scrawling a last note to me, and turning her attention to the teacher's lecture on proofs.

_I'm Jessica Stanley, by the way. Feel free to ask me any questions. I pretty much know everything about this place. I've only had to live here, like, my whole life._

With the end of the period brought Spanish, which I'd never been particularly good with, but I still kind of liked it. I took my seat in the only desk behind a cute, boyish looking kid. His hair was spiked in neat little, frosty spikes, and his eyes were wide spaced and pale. He twisted around in his seat to face me. "Hey," he said.

"Um, hi," I said.

"You're –"

I cut him off quickly finishing what he was about to say in a monotone: "Chief Swan's daughter, right?"

His smile turned sympathetic. "Heard that question enough for one day, huh?"

I smiled too, glad to see the empathy in his face. "Like you wouldn't believe."

He nodded in understanding.

A woman entered the room and began chatting away in Spanish, and went to the white board to draw up a chart. Her roaming eyes suddenly landed on me and she came over to my desk. "Hola, señorita," she announced in a grand voice. "Cual es su nombre?"

"Er, um, me –me nombre es Bella." I stumbled over the words clumsily, but the teacher took no notice of this.

"Como estás?"

"Uh, bien, gracias."

She nodded and said, "Bienvenidos a mi clase."

I nodded in return, and she moved on to the lesson.

In short, the rest of the class passed much like my other classes, at a slow and tedious rate. When class was over, Mike invited me to sit with him and his friends if I had nowhere else to sit.

"Sorry, I already promised this girl I'd sit with her." I felt embarrassed when I couldn't even remember the girl's name.

He shrugged. "It's cool. I'll just walk with you to the cafeteria."

As we made our way to the lunchroom, Mike talked casually. He told me he was from southern California so he could understand my loathing of the depressing weather here in Forks. He smiled when I showed him my schedule and said we had the next two classes together.

When we entered the cafeteria I felt a surge of nervousness and claustrophobia. The room wasn't quite as full as the cafeteria used to be back at home, but the thought that I hardly knew a single person here, while everyone else seemed to know each other got to me. I was the only person here who didn't know everyone. It was a weird feeling. Not that I had many friends at my old high school. Now the feeling was just kicked up a notch.

"Do you see who you're sitting with?" Mike asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Uh," I stalled for a moment searching for the curly haired girl. I didn't have to look for long; she was sitting at one of the tables closer to the door. She had seen me first and I first saw her with her hand in mid-wave. "Yeah, I see her."

I started walking over to the table with out a second glance at him, only for Mike to follow me. We both noticed this and stopped in our tracks and looked at each other. "Was that Jessica who waved to you?" he asked.

Oh, right. _That_ was her name. "Yeah. Do you sit with her too?" I asked.

"I do, as a matter of fact," he said with a smile. "Well, it appears we'll be eating together after all."

I smiled back. "It does look that way."

It wasn't until I got to the long lunch table that I realized just how packed the table was. Jessica had her backpack on the seat next to her, reserving it for me, and removed it as I approached. "Hey," she greeted me. She looked over to Mike, who stood behind me, and she bit her lip. "Oh, Mike, I'm so sorry I didn't save you a seat," she said sincerely.

Mike shrugged. "No worries," he said. "It's cool." And it was. He went to go sit at the other end of the table with the first boy I'd bumped into today, and that was that.

I turned back to face Jessica, but she was still staring at Mike. I debated snapping my fingers in front of her face, or something to shake her out of it. She suddenly turned to face me and smiled. "Sorry. I was spacing out for a minute there." She rolled her eyes at herself. Then sighed. "So, I should probably point out who everyone is here, right? I mean, you don't really know anyone, right?"

I nodded my head.

"Have you met anyone besides Mike?" she asked. "Just so I don't point out someone you know."

I glanced down to Mike's side of the table. Eric was already staring at me, so he caught me glance at him, and raised his hand to wave, but by then I'd already looked away. "Yeah. I met that guy, Eric."

Jessica sighed, sympathetically. "You poor thing."

I shrugged.

"All right, then," Jessica said thoughtfully. She glanced up and down the table choosing whom to start with. "Well, this right here is Angela Webber." She gestured to a tall thin girl with mousey brown hair. The girl turned and gave me a little wave. I waved back.

She pointed to another girl, sitting across from Angela Weber, with long, pin-straight, white-blonde hair. She was shorter than Angela and more angular looking, though not necessarily thinner. "This is Lauren Mallory." Lauren hardly acknowledged me. She gave me one, very brief, icy glance before turning to a sturdily built, brown haired boy. Jessica pointed him out next.

"That's Tyler Crowley," Jessica indicated when she noticed I glanced at him.

A girl suddenly sat down across from Jessica, squeezing between Lauren and a tall boy, with almost shaggy blonde hair. I didn't see his face, because he was leaning over a very thick volume. The girl was extremely slight and fairy-like in almost every sense of the word. Her jetty hair was cut short and styled into spikes that surrounded her elfish face like a halo. The corners of her thin lips were already quirked up into a grin. Her eyes landed on me and her smile grew if it were possible. "Hi, Bella!"

I froze for a moment. "What?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, suddenly. "I forgot for a moment we haven't met yet. There's just been so much excitement about you, so, I'm sorry to say, you're what everyone has been talking about today."

It was so odd the way she talked to me; it was so relaxed, like she was talking to an old friend. People at my school in Phoenix weren't even this friendly to me. "I guess-" I began to say, but she cut me off quickly

"I'm sorry, I should introduce myself. I'm Alice." She extended a slender hand across the table for me to shake. I quickly obliged. She turned to Jessica. "Who has she met?"

Jessica gave her a quick list of the people she'd just previously introduced me to. "Why?" Jessica asked, with a trace of annoyance marring her seemingly constant peppy nature.

Alice acted as if she hadn't noticed this. "Well, I was just wondering if she'd met Jasper yet. Or anyone else, really." She shrugged, daintily.

"Why, though? Do _you _want to introduce her, or something?" Jessica pressed, her face now showed obvious signs of irritation.

Alice shrugged again. "Sure." Alice continued to pretend to not notice Jessica's annoyed expression and tone. She remained impassive, but friendly.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I don't care." She turned away from me to face Angela.

I blinked. That was abrupt, I thought.

Alice however was totally unfazed. "All right-y, then." She turned to the boy sitting next to her, and nudged him with a pointy elbow. "Hey, Jazz."

'Jazz's' head snapped up, startled. "What?" It was the first time I saw his face and I was almost surprised by how handsome he was. He was also much taller than I expected him to be, once he sat up all the way.

Alice smiled sweetly to him. "This-" she gestured to me, here-"is Bella. She's new."

The blond, and suddenly good looking boy smiled a little, embarrassed. "Oh, right. Bella. You're the new chick."

"Where's the new chick?" A deeper voice suddenly interjected with unbridled curiosity. I looked over to the origin of the voice. It was his sheer size that I noticed first. To be perfectly frank, the guy looked intimidating in size, to say the least. And he was sitting down. I think that really says something about a person. It wasn't even just his height. I could see his impressive biceps and pectorals straining against his white cotton t-shirt. He leaned over the two boys sitting between Jasper and him, his elbow on the table. He shook one of the many dark curls on his head out of his eyes and his dark eyes roamed up and down the table, not waiting for the blond boy's answer. Then his eyes rested on me, and he grinned widely. "Oh. 'Sup, new chick?"

"Um-" was as far as I got before Alice cut in again.

"Hey, hey, hey!" she said, glaring at him. "I'm trying to do this in an organized way, here. I'd appreciate it if you just waited your turn. But now I just might as well introduce you," she grumbled.

The intimidating boy laughed, raucously. "So-_rry_."

"Yeah, right," Alice muttered. "Okay, well this is Emmett," she sighed, exasperated, as she said his name. "And, Emmett, this is Bella."

Emmett laughed again at Alice. "I love your enthusiasm when it comes to me." Alice ignored this. He smirked when she ignored him and turned to me. "You a junior?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," I answered somewhat uneasily, waiting to be interrupted.

The boy next to him pulled a red hair pick out of his Afro and laughed at Emmett. "Does she look like a senior to you?"

Emmett shrugged. "She could be." He paused for a moment then said, "Hey, what about Edward, Alice?"

Alice exhaled impatiently. "Well, I _was _going to introduce him to her next, but then _you _butt in and messed it up." She narrowed her eyes at Emmett.

"Oh. Well, carry on. I'd like to see this." Emmett and the boy next to him with the Afro watched Alice and I with eager amusement.

Alice rolled her eyes. She leaned over Jasper to the boy sitting next to him. I'd hardly noticed him when I sat down. He had his hood pulled up and was slightly hunched over; leaning over something I couldn't see. He was almost in the same position Jasper had been in before, as in I couldn't really see his face, just his untidy auburn hair sticking out from under his hood.

Alice cleared her throat dramatically and then said, softly, "Edward?"

The boy with the Afro snorted.

Emmett shook his head, still grinning.

Alice glanced at afro-boy. "Shut up, Chris."

"Edward," she said more loudly. He still didn't move.

Emmett and Chris were snickering, silently.

Alice got a determined look on her face, and strained herself even more around Jasper. "Edward!" she snapped. Edward, again, remained as still as ever.

She cussed under her breath, and sat back in her seat before getting up and walking right behind Edward. She suddenly jerked back his hood, revealing clunky, disc jockey style headphones, pressing down on untidy, red hair that reminded me of the hue of bronze. Edward looked up, confused. I felt my eyes almost pop out of my head at his very face. Emmett and Jasper were lookers, but they really had nothing on this Edward. Even now, as he swiveled in his seat to seek the perpetrator, with his brow pushed together, he was gorgeous. You never expect looks like that in real life. I felt almost blindsided by it. Who knew such stunning people lived in little ol' Forks?

"What was that for?" Edward demanded a little too loudly.

"Headphones, Edward," Alice said, teasingly, with a mocking smile.

Edward frowned. "What? I can't hear you." Again, he spoke much too loud. Emmett Jasper, and Chris were all laughing, silently as possible. I noticed Jessica, Angela and Lauren all turn to see what was going on.

Alice sighed and pulled the headphones off Edward's head and said, much too loudly, though very much on purpose, "_You headphones." _She smiled sweetly to him and snapped them back on his head.

Edward grimaced, while Jasper, Emmett, and Chris allowed themselves to burst out into laughter. Some of the girls who had been watching giggled, before turning back to their conversations. "Yeah, yeah," Edward said after they didn't stop laughing for a couple of minutes. "I get it." Their laughter died down and Edward narrowed his eyes at them, waiting for them to start laughing again. They stared back, expectant. "Har, Har," he said sarcastically and Jasper snorted.

"You have to admit," Emmett said, "that was pretty fuckin' hilarious."

Alice cleared her throat loudly. "Excuse me? I'm trying to help Bella out, here, and you guys keep messing this up." She glared at Chris and Emmett and then turned to Jasper. "And _you."_

Jasper frowned. "What did _I _do?"

"_You, _my dear, aren't helping by laughing with them."

"I can't help-" He cut himself short at the look Alice was giving him and said, "Sorry."

It was only then I could put together in my mind that Jasper and Alice were a couple, in the moment before she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I know you are, Jazz."

"Christ, you guys," Emmett, said, with a touch of disgust and laughter in his tone. "Get a room."

Alice gasped, mockingly offended. "_Excuse_ me? Are you talking about Jasper and I? Are you serious? Do you even know what you and Rose look like when you guys are together?"

Emmett opened his mouth, ready to retort when Alice cut him off. "Enough! Seriously, Bella will never get to meet everyone if you keep getting me sidetracked. I can't even remember now who I was going to introduce her to next." She scowled, and then comprehension dawned on her face. She looked both ways down the long table before asking Emmett, "Where's Rosalie?"

"Right here," I heard a smooth voice drawl, from behind me. I twisted in my seat to see who spoke, but she was already walking toward and empty seat next to a short, voluptuous girl, with silk black hair and almond shaped eyes. Her full lips pulled back around her teeth in a smile, by way of greeting to Rosalie.

I couldn't quite peel my eyes away from the girl. She was tall, statuesque and blond. Her features had the dark and cold beauty of high fashion models- the high porcelain cheekbones, and the wide, somehow hauntingly beautiful eyes. She flipped her long, golden-blond hair over her shoulder, in a highly annoyed way before turning to Alice. "I am so done with French," was the only other thing she said, before turning back to the pretty Asian girl beside her.

"Excuse me, Rosalie?" Alice said, loudly, with surprising authority for someone so small. "There's someone here you have to meet."

Rosalie turned slowly and gave Alice a look that very plainly said "Excuse me?" right back. "Who?" she asked, despite her supremely unenthusiastic expression.

Most of the time, I don't think myself very intimidated by other people –save for Emmett, previously known as the intimidating boy- but more not willing to socialize with them, for whatever reason. Or sometimes I just don't have much to say to a person. I, however, suddenly felt the edge of intimidation dig into my gut. She hadn't even looked at me, and I felt strangely uncomfortable because of it. It wasn't like she just by coincidence hadn't looked at me –it was like she didn't want to see me there.

"This," Alice said, with a melodramatic flourish of her hand, "is the new girl, Bella."

Rosalie's eyes finally landed on me and they were rather cold, and harsh in their pale blueness. "Welcome to Forks, Hell on Earth."

I froze. How do you respond to something like that? I scrambled franticly –albeit internally- for a moment for a reply, but she'd already turned back to her friend.

I suddenly noticed Alice was talking and jerked my head back to look at her, but she wasn't talking to me. "What did you _do_?" Alice demanded Emmett.

"I didn't do _anything_! What are you blaming me for? You heard Rose," Emmett said defensively. "She's having trouble with French. Not me. Sheesh, Alice. Way to be a loyal friend."

I know I would have naturally followed the rally of the conversation, back and forth, back and forth, but as my eyes made their way back to Alice, for her retort, they stopped on Edward's face. It's one of those things, where you effortlessly look to where you feel yourself being watched. You can feel a stare like that. Edward was in fact looking at me. He was staring at me openly and unashamedly. His expression was both open and curious. I smiled a very small, shy, tightlipped, smile before dropping my gaze to the artificial grains of wood in the lunch table.

I wished in that moment I could just become part of the table, and just meld into it. I wanted to just blend in like I did at home. Here I was a spectacle and an oddity. Neither of which I could say I appreciated in the least. No matter how much purpose I knew I had in being here, I still missed home, a lot. _I am such a baby, _I thought to myself, thoroughly disgusted. I'd been away from home for only one day, so far. How was I supposed to make it until the end of high school? Ugh. I wanted to bang my head against the tabletop and force everything out of my head. I wanted to bang my head against the tabletop until I knocked myself out.

The lunch bell suddenly rang, shrilly, and I jumped, startled. Everyone at the table seemed to groan simultaneously, before shoving out of their seats and slowly dispersing. I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

I let out a groan of my own, though no one joined me, and it was very quiet. I wondered if no one noticed me this very moment, would they notice if I made a dash for the exit. However two things hindered this plan from the get-go: A) Of course people would notice; I was the new piece of gossip, and from what I could tell, most people had their eyes glued to me, like a freak show. B) The whole situation was purely hypothetical in my head. I could never follow through on something so obviously against the rules. Besides, I had a reputation to uphold, what with being the chief's daughter.

So, with out much further thought, I trudged my way to Biology II.

Thankfully my biology class wasn't too far from the cafeteria. Mike caught up to me anyway and chattered at me until we got to the door. The biology teacher –a Mr. Banner, according to my schedule- smiled at me, and waved me over to his desk.

"Isabella Swan?" he asked.

"Bella," I corrected for the umpteenth time.

"I'm Mr. Banner," He introduced himself, unnecessarily. "There's an open seat, there, next to Mr. Masen." He gestured vaguely toward the back of the classroom. "Welcome to Forks High," he seemed to add, as an after thought.

I flashed a quick smile, before turning back to the rest of the class. I was thankful that no one seemed to be paying any attention to me. Even Mike was talking to another girl, that Jessica had introduced me to –though I couldn't think of her name, for the life of me.

And Edward was staring at me. Quite, blatantly, I might add.

I stared back, only for a moment, before my cheeks flushed and I ducked my head. It wasn't hard to guess that Mr. Banner had meant that my seat assignment was to be next to Edward –he was the only one in the classroom sitting alone.

I took a deep steadying breath, before making my way down the center aisle of desks. He looked up at me, when I took a seat in the chair next to him. I set my bag on the floor, trying to pretend I couldn't feel his curious gaze on my back. I finally turned to him, to ask him what he was looking at, but he spoke first.

"I'm Edward," he said then added, "Masen."

"I know." I smiled very slightly at him.

He grimaced, and his ears and neck flushed with color. "Yeah … " He trailed off awkwardly and fidgeted with the cord hanging from his clunky headphones, that rested around his neck.

I felt a stab of guilt at seeing his embarrassment. I couldn't think of a way to save the conversation however, with out making the situation worse, and so turned to my notebook.

Mr. Banner called the class to attention then, turning on the overhead projector. Though we'd already done a unit on cell anatomy in my biology class back home, I didn't have anything better to do, other than to take notes.

"If there was any other was any other way for me to be introduced to you –with out my being humiliated- I would have really prefered that, " he murmured so low, I thought for a moment he hadn't meant me to hear what he said.

I turned to look at him, but he was looking at the bullet-points outlined on the overhead. Feeling my stare, he chanced a glance in my direction.

"Really," I whispered. "I'm the one who should feel humiliated."

"And why's that?" His attention was now squarely on my face, his head cocked to the side. "You weren't the one publicly embarrassed in the cafeteria."

I think it's fairly natural to shy away from an intense gaze –like, say, Edward's. And it feels unnatural to stare back, right in their eyes, and see their depth, their vulnerability. His eyes were a deep green. Like the color of the ocean when a storm is on the horizon, surging forward at its slow and ominous pace, while the sun still blithely shines. Somewhere, deep in them, I caught a hint of humor. It was dark, and diluted, but it was there.

I felt my face get hot with my blush and quickly looked away, though he showed no signs that he even noticed. "In case if you weren't aware," I finally managed to say, "that's pretty much what I've been going through the whole day. I am the new chick, after all."

One side of his lovely mouth tugged upward in a lopsided smile. I wondered idly how many hearts he'd broken with that smile. "That doesn't count as public humiliation. No one is trying to humiliate you, anyway."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Mr. Masen and Miss Swan? Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class, or may I continue my lesson?" Mr. Banner barked from the front of the class.

I blushed deeply.

"Carry on," Edward said nonchalantly.

"Careful, Masen," Mr. Banner warned. "Don't get smart with me."

Edward nodded once, though humor still lifted his expression.

Much to my chagrin, Edward didn't speak to me for the rest of the class. He flashed that same perfect, crooked grin at me, before he left the classroom, at the end of the period. I trudged to the gym, which was also used as the lunchroom, alone, thankfully.

Coach Clapp informed me that I didn't have to dress today, for PE, but I would have to starting the next day. Joy.

Though I didn't have to participate in PE today, I was relieved when the bell finally rang. I practically ran to my car, which caused me to stumble, and fall, as I should have expected.

I sighed at myself, exasperated, and knelt to pick up the books I'd dropped.

"Need help with that?" A familiar voice inquired.

I looked up, my cheeks already pink, to see Edward standing above me. He stooped beside me, sinuously, and began picking up a notebook I'd dropped.

"I'm fine, really," I told him, hurriedly. "I can get it."

He ignored me though, picking up another notebook, before handing both to me. "That's everything," he said cheerfully. He stood, and I awkwardly, brought myself to my feet as well. He was tall. Maybe not as tall as Jasper or Emmett, but he had about a foot on me. "See you tomorrow," he added, before turning, and walking to the parking lot.

I sighed again, at myself, before making my own way to the parking lot.

On the way home, I tried to concentrate on unpacking, preparing dinner, and homework –normal things like that. However, I found myself continually coming back to Edward's penetrating stare. And it wasn't just his stare that I couldn't rid my mind of –it was also his face, his hands, his eyes, his entire being that I couldn't keep myself from thinking of.

What was so special about Edward Masen? Aside from his ridiculous good looks. Aside from the peculiar way he'd started our introductory conversation. Aside from his constantly prying green eyes, which held a bewildering depth to them.

Aside from all that, what was I left with? He had a certain wit to him. A lot of people had senses of humor. This at least made him not quite so singular. And he clearly liked music –the headphones said that much. I guessed from the behavior of his peers that they were a common accessory for him. Lots of people liked music. And he was friendly, though his friendliness had seemed born out of curiosity, more than anything else.

I was simply going in circles. He was unique, and I wasn't doing myself favors by denying it. He wasn't like the other students, in such a way, I couldn't place my finger on. He just struck me as different. Intriguing, in his quiet manner.

I shook my head to clear it of my ridiculous ponderings, as I pulled into Charlie's driveway. He wasn't home yet, so I still had some time to myself, before I had to start dinner.

I went up to my room, dropping my bag on the floor, by my desk, and went to turn on my feeble, obsolete, computer. It took about ten or fifteen minutes to turn on all the way –in which time I spent tidying up my room, a bit, and started rereading _Wuthering Heights- _and by the time it did, the screen was covered in a smattering of pop-up adds, which I had to close. That took me another ten minutes. I very nearly gave up, after that, but knew my mother would be very displeased if I didn't check my email inbox, thus resulting in a furious phone call. Not exactly what I was aiming for, I had to say.

And so, with a martyred sigh, I clicked on the little Internet Explorer icon on my desktop and waited for it to load.

My mom had left me three emails. One email asked how I was liking Forks, if it was raining, how Charlie was, and that kind of thing. The next email had a panicked tenor to it, asking why I hadn't emailed her yet. The last one simply said that if I did not reply to her email by five-thirty in the PM, today, she would call Charlie.

I still had a while, but I thought it would be best to email her ASAP –she was known for jumping the gun.

"Mom" I started my email…

**Relax. I just got in yesterday, and I've been at school all day today. Of**_** course, **_**it's raining. This **_**is**_** Forks, after all. Everyone here seems pretty nice. I feel like I'm adjusting pretty well, for a place I dislike so much. **

**Charlie's good. He told me to pass along that he says "Hi". **

**Breath. Relax. I love you. **

I signed my name at the bottom and clicked "send" with the cursor.

I decided I might as well get started on my homework, seeing as Charlie wouldn't be home until six, so there was no rush to start dinner. Though, my teachers had all assured me I didn't have to complete the assignments until next week, I didn't see the point in procrastinating, anyway.

I'd just finished writing my chapter analysis of _Wuthering Heights _–a personal favorite of mine- when I heard Charlie's cruiser pull in.

I glanced at the alarm clock, on my nightstand, irked to see that I'd have to get dinner started late. _Way to make an impression, _I thought to myself dryly.

"Hey, Ch-Dad," I greeted, as I came down the stairs. "Sorry, dinner's not ready yet."

"Oh, hey, Bells. That's fine," he said, as he hung his gun, in its holster on a coat hook, by the door. "I wanted to catch the game anyway."

I went to the kitchen then, realizing, much to my disappointment, that Charlie's kitchen wasn't very well stocked –something I hadn't had time to make notice of last night, since Charlie had ordered take-out. I resolved to go grocery shopping to amend the tragic situation the next day.

I was lucky that Charlie's hobby of choice was fishing; consequently the freezer was thoroughly stocked with fish. I sautéed the fish, which I had ready fairly quickly. I rooted through the fridge for some lettuce or some kind of salad mix, but, alas, there was none. Which was quite shame, because it would have been a nice balance, I thought. I should have figured as much though, judging from the sparse state of the rest of his supply of food.

Charlie, however, was very satisfied by the fish, alone. He wasn't a man of many words, but smiled broadly when he came into the kitchen, and eyed the fish I was scooping onto two plates –one for him, and one for myself- and said "Smells good, Bella."

Charlie didn't speak much during dinner. He asked a few questions about school and how I was liking it here, before he finished, and retreated to the TV room. I hand washed and dried the dishes, since Charlie didn't have a dishwasher.

I stood at the sink for a long moment staring out the window, into the dark. All I saw though was my face staring back at me, a familiar crease formed between my eyes. I pressed a finger down on it, smoothing the furrow on my brow.

I knew why I looked so bothered. I shook my head, again, ridding myself of my thoughts. It didn't make any sense, this budding infatuation. How quick I was to make life in Forks –impossibly- more unbearable!

I went back up stairs, to busy myself with homework, to keep my mind from going down the absurd path it was taking.

Finally, after reading several more chapters of _Wuthering Heights –_however unnecessary- I was finally tired enough to go to bed.

That night I dreamed I was in a room –no, not _in, _but _trapped_ in a room filled with beautiful and exotic people. They were all talking to each other, and I was trying to find the exit, through the throng of lovely people. They all glared and sneered at me, laughing as I went, at my incompetence and deficient looks. When I finally did find a door, a sign over it blared the words "THIS IS NOT AN EXIT."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Feed-back would be greatly appreciated :D_


	2. chapter 2

1**Chapter 2: Edward**

Jesus Christ.

Jesus.

_Christ_.

I am the quintessential moron. What a way to make an impression on a girl. First, I get her in trouble, in biology –her first stupid day of school, no less, and I manage to humiliate her, for real this time.

And what in the hell was that I said to her? _See you tomorrow? _Was that all I could come up with? And did I just, seriously, high tail it out of there, with out another word?

Really?

I mean, _really_?

I wasn't even going to get started on the whole disaster of her being introduced to me. That was just bad –all bad. I hadn't turned my iPod back on since the traumatic incident –I felt kind of betrayed by it.

Emmett had ditched me after Spanish to catch Rosalie before she, Karen and Alice left for their shopping trip to Port Angeles. So, I didn't even have his boisterous person to deflect my anxious mood.

In Spanish he only laughed as I griped to him about his support during lunch. He told me I needed to relax. Chill for a second, man. Seriously. That couldn't have ruined your chances with her –not really.

While that was all very well and good, that he thought so, I was fairly certain that if she didn't think me inept before, she must by now.

By the time I got to the parking lot, I noticed both Emmett and Jasper already waiting by my car. That was unusual. They were talking –no, not talking, I amended, as I got closer. They were bickering.

"I'm sorry, Jasper, man, but Alice has you so pussy-whipped. Seriously, man. Grow a pair," Emmett was saying with mock concern.

Jasper's expression didn't change. He just squinted his eyes slightly, and continued to look up at the sky. "Can I ask you a favor Emmett? I know how you much you like it there, but could you please pull your big head out of your tight asshole?"

Emmett narrowed his eyes at Jasper. "Fuck off."

I rolled my eyes at them. "I hate to intrude on your little moment, but is there some reason why you're loitering in front of my car?"

"Loitering?" Emmett objected.

"Yes, actually." Jasper smiled. "Chris wants to know if you're coming to his party Friday night."

I stalled, opening the passenger door to my car to unload my bag into the seat, then walking around the front fender, and unlocking my door. "Uh…" I paused, uncertainly. "I really don't know. I have to work Friday night."

"C'mon, Ed," Emmett complained. "Take a day off, for fucking once, all right? This is a _party, _for Christ's sake. Not your great aunt's funeral."

I leveled him a dark look. "I have work. A party isn't going to get me out of it."

"Just think about it, all right?" Jasper requested.

"Will do," I muttered, opening my door and sitting in my seat. I started the engine, but the passenger door flew open.

"What?" I demanded Emmett.

"If you don't come, I'll pound your fucking face in, all right?" Emmett hissed. "I'm doing this for your own good, kid." He gave me one last serious glance, before slamming the door shut.

"Encouraging," I murmured to myself, before pulling out of my parking space.

On the drive home I couldn't keep Bella off my mind. Probably it was my embarrassment at how I'd acted around her. First impressions and all that.

But there was something wrong about the way I thought about her. Though my few memories of her were tinged with my mortification, there was something odd there about it.

I liked girls. I did. But it hadn't been since last year when any really captured my interest –not after what happened.

And yet, there I sat, perfectly fascinated by her.

_No,_ I stopped myself. _Not fascinated. Possibly interested. But you can't be _fascinated_. Not yet, at least. _

That's right, not fascinated.

I shook my head at myself as I parked in front of my house. We lived in a pretty big, old house –Victorian era. A family friend, who was an architect, refurbished the house and gave it to us. Both her and her husband had that kind of money, though, so it wasn't something we weren't used to from them.

I made my way up the porch stairs and twisted the doorknob to see if it was unlocked –which it was- before heading inside.

"In the kitchen!" my mom called. I went in, already cautious of whatever it was she wanted to say.

Her back was facing me, and her hair was pulled up in a messy knot at the back of her head. She was working over a bowl, stirring something. "So, Chief Swan's daughter started school today." She turned to face me, her eyes speculative.

"Yeah," I said, lamely. I shifted my bag, on my shoulder. "She's in my biology class."

"You were nice to her, right?" She asked, putting her hand on her hip.

I hesitated for a moment. _Well, I hadn't _intended _to embarrass her. _Then again, there was that saying about the road to Hell… "Of course I was nice to her. She's the new girl."

"Good. I can't have an ungentlemanly son, now can I?" She turned back around, to the counter, to continue whisking whatever it was that was in the bowl.

"Yeah, yeah. What're you making?" I peered over her shoulder, curious, before she could answer.

"Sugar cookies," she responded.

I stepped back and rolled my eyes. "You're such a mom sometimes."

She snorted. "Go to your room, or something. I don't need you waiting around being a smart-aleck."

I went up to my room, with out further argument, seeing as it was my original destination anyway. I dropped my bag on the floor and took another step, when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I checked the ID and sighed loudly.

"Emmett," I greeted, exasperated.

"It's nice to talk to you too," Emmett grumbled. "You and Alice today," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. So, have you reached a verdict?"

"Emmett," I said slowly. "I've been home all of three minutes."

"So?" He demanded. "Are you coming, or not?"

"It's a definite maybe," I told him as I went to my shelf of CD's. I scanned them until I found the CD I was looking for –_OK Computer. _

"Dude!" Emmett protested. "Why don't you want to go?"

I held the phone between my shoulder and ear, and used my newly freed hand to open the case and remove the disk, careful to only touch the edge. "I told you already –I have work Friday night."

"This is obviously not a matter of what you _have _to do. If you really wanted to go, you'd say you'd go."

I scowled. Why couldn't he just leave it? "Why is this party so important?" I turned on my stereo and opened it, before placing the CD in.

"It's not _important. _You just haven't been to a party, since forever," Emmett clarified.

"That's not true," I disagreed. "I went to that party you had about a month ago."

"Are you kidding me? That was in fucking November! _November_!"

I grimaced at his blunt honesty. Had it really been that long ago? "That's still not forever."

Emmett sighed heavily. "You're killing me, Ed."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a deep sigh of my own. "I'm sorry, Em. I really am. I'll think about it some more, all right?"

"I'm serious too, man. You better really think about it." I could here his constant good humor in his tone, though it was a threat.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Later."

I pressed the "end" button on my phone and set it on my desk. I stared at it for a long moment, waiting, though I wasn't all that sure what I was waiting for.

I looked over to my bed. It was neat. Tidy. Pristine. As if it had just came out of its trim little package –mint condition.

Almost as if I'd never slept in it.

That was almost true. It wasn't that I didn't like my bed, because I really did, and I wished I could sleep in it more often. My problem was just that, well, I couldn't exactly sleep.

Like, an insomniac. Because I was one.

People define themselves by their flaws. Sometimes they're even fond of them. Sometimes they're excessively conscious of them –so conscious they wonder how no one else seems to be pointing and laughing at them.

I have flaws. I'm a person. I exist. Therefore, I have flaws. Not a thing exists that doesn't.

Let's list them, shall we?

Flaw 1: I laugh too loud.

Flaw 2: My hair has a mind of its own.

Flaw 3: I'm too skinny to be as tall as I am.

What else is there… Oh! That's right!

Flaw 4: I have insomnia.

Flaw four is quite a doosie. It pretty much obliterates its competitors for number one spot on my list of flaws. It reigns supreme, dominant and merciless. It's not really something someone will point out to you, and you go _"What? Since when was that?"_

It's just something you start to notice after a while. I think I started to realize there was something wrong when I didn't sleep for an entire week. My mom had been adamant that she did not want me on narcotics to all the doctors she spoke to, until she found the placebos had zero effect. How fortunate that her abhorrent sedatives had a similar effect. Not the melatonin, not the anti-depressants, not the antihistamines, not the benzodiazepines. If none of those worked, how could a measly placebo? Just saying.

She then resorted to every remedy and antidote she could find –I'd suffered through acupuncture, practiced meditation, and used aromatherapy. I did pretty much everything I could do on that front.

Want to know what worked?

I'll tell you.

Yeah.

That's right.

Jack. Shit.

That's what worked. There would be nights when it would give me an hour, or so, but the results were sporadic, and that only got a person so far.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. My doctors just said that it was probably linked to stress and anxiety, that type of thing. Which, I suppose, I had plenty of. And insomnia wasn't something that just went away –not in my case, at least.

Apparently, insomnia is also a common side effect to posttraumatic stress disorder, which my parents thought I had at first. I thought I had it. The whole happening had been pretty traumatic, I thought. The psychiatrist my parents had me see told me that my symptoms weren't consistent enough for a whole month for me to have it. Which was good, I guess, but I liked precise and clean explanations like that. I liked having a label for my problems. It made them easy to identify –easy to understand.

So then what was I then?

A hot mess?

Crazy?

Possibly.

I had some anxiety, and some insomnia, but that didn't necessarily equivocate PTSD. I had gotten better since the incident –a lot better, I thought. But there were still some lasting effects -the insomnia, for example. Still. I was much better. I was functioning.

I pulled the chair out from my desk, and the legs dragged jarringly across the bare wood floor. I was tired. I hadn't really slept since the night before last, and I felt less than lucid. Closer to dreaming than awake. I rested the side of my face against the cool desktop. It was nice. Not really comfortable, but nice enough.

I thought about Bella Swan. She was pretty. Not mind-blowingly so, but that was okay. It was subtle, warm, and delicate, but very distinguished and unique, her appeal was. She had the air of a girl who wished she could mesh into nothing –be left alone, and never be seen nor heard. But then there was this odd edge she had, this feistiness and indignation. She was quite the walking contradiction.

I forced myself finally to retrieve my backpack from where I'd unceremoniously dumped it on the floor, and to start my homework, breaking myself from my obscure thoughts.

I tired of it very quickly, however, and only made it half way through my trigonometry homework before I decided to save the rest for later.

I glanced at my alarm clock on my desk. It was only four. I went to my closet, and took out a pair of basketball shorts. I undressed quickly and put on the shorts. I peeled off my t-shirt and tossed it into my laundry hamper.

"Where are you going?" my mom demanded as I came down the stairs. She stepped out of the kitchen and crossed her arms across her chest, her expression disapproving.

I picked up my running shoes by the door and held them up, wordlessly, for her to see.

She glanced pointedly at the clock on the wall. "Don't take too long. Your dad is going to be home at six, and I need you to set the table for dinner."

"Right-o," I agreed, taking a seat on the floor to put on my sneakers.

"Five-thirty," were her parting words, before going back into the kitchen.

Running had always been something I liked to do. It was that endorphin rush that I really liked, after a long run. That feeling of euphoria that captures your body, after you've run, is so indescribably pleasurable.

Or maybe it was the mindless stretch and pull of my limbs, the steady robotic rhythm as my feet pushed me forward.

Or even it could be the soft, dewy fingers of the wind stroking against my face and shoulders.

Probably it was a combination of the three.

I ran a shorter span of distance than I normally would have, did I have more time. It was nice enough though. I ran along the side of the road, almost flush against the thick, green, foliage.

Though my body was exhausted, I pushed myself forward anyway. It was a good kind of exhausted. A pleasant, light-headed kind of exhausted.

While I ran, I tried to clear my mind. It was a sort of therapeutic thing, running was. Cathartic, even. I felt the anxiety, the stress, the tension, shed in soft, invisible layers, lying to rest on the damp asphalt, behind me. My insides didn't feel too full for my skin.

But that never really came. Something in the road reminded me of that Swan girl. A solitary flower, perhaps, growing on the side of the road, the exact shade of her ample lips. Whatever it was, it got me thinking about her. I berated myself, internally, again, at how I'd managed to act like a total ignoramus to her. I couldn't remember specific things. I could remember making some kind of wisecrack to Mr. Banner, after he'd scolded Bella and I for talking during a lecture –at which I did distinctly recall hoping she'd laugh at, which she didn't. And I remembered her hastily trying to brush me off, as I'd stooped to help her with her dropped books. That had gone well. Very well, indeed.

And why should I have any interest in impressing Bella anyway? I couldn't be in a relationship with her. She would think I was crazy. She'd run away screaming. I didn't really think I was mentally stable enough to have those feelings, to want that kind of relationship again, anyway. It would be too wrong. It would be easier to just skip over all the potential heartbreak and the break up, and never even try. Even if I didn't know Bella Swan, I could safely say that she deserved someone who wasn't so ridiculously below par.

My run took me down to the convenience store, about three miles away from my house, and bought a bottle of water, with some pocket change. I chugged the whole thing before I ran the way back, keeping an even pace, though the faint drizzle had turned into a near torrential downpour. Thunder cracked in the distance, suggesting that the worst of the storm had yet to pass.

By the time I got home I was soaked to the bone. I felt like I'd taken a cold shower, rather than have run in the rain. I took off my sopping sneakers outside, leaving them on the porch to dry so I wouldn't incense my mom's temper.

I strolled inside, as casually and as quietly as possibly, not altogether certain if I had come home in time. I took a look at the clock as I passed it in the hallway, and let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I still had plenty of time until I was due.

I began my trek upstairs, but I was halted when my mother came down. "I was looking for you." She scowled, disparagingly.

"I went running," I explained, although I thought it was rather unnecessary.

"Well, your dad called and he's coming home early, so I'd like for you to set the table now. And why were you gone for so long? I thought I told you to keep it short."

"It's only, like, four-thirty."

"Closer to four-_forty. _And when I say 'short', I mean it. Half an hour is too long," she disputed. "Don't you have homework you should be doing?"

I love my mom, I really do. I would even go as far as to say I'm a bit of a momma's boy. But I know, above anyone else, that my mom is a no questions asked, hard-ass.

"What do you want me to do? Set the table, or do my homework?" I asked, trying to keep the petulance out of my tone. Though I think I probably should have just nodded, like the obedient little boy I was, and go set the table. But, well, sometimes I have a problem with the filter between my mind, and my mouth.

She narrowed her eyes. "Do _not _use that tone with me, or so help me God, I will ground you until you are thirty-five. Go set the table." She stalked stiffly past me, and down the hallway.

I shuffled into the dining room, still wearing my sodden shorts and socks. The plates, napkins and silverware was already stacked on the end of the table, I just had to set them all in the right place.

I proceeded to my room. I should have finished off my homework, but my bed looked so _soft _and so _warm. _I changed the Radiohead CD out of my stereo, and looked for something more fit for the mood. I found a CD of Chopin's Nocturnes and put that in. I stripped off my shorts, and lay on top of my blankets in my boxers, not bothering to pull the comforter around me. I felt fatigued enough to fall asleep. There was a soft foggy haze hugging my head, weighing it down on my pillow. Surely I could fall asleep. I must. I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Sleep did not come. I could feel it, taste it even, sweet and delectable. It was so close, yet so far. I was so sure that I was going to fall into the waiting arms of unconsciousness, that I spent an hour waiting for it to happen. _Any minute now…_

There was a sharp rap against my door, breaking my concentration. I grit my teeth against a frustrated sigh. "Yes?" I called.

"Dinner's on," my dad said, without opening the door. I could hear his slow, heavy pace fade as he walked away from my door, then faintly as he took the stairs. And if I strained my ears hard enough, I could hear his muffled rumble of a voice to my mother, and the metallic creak as the oven opened.

I got up slowly, leisurely, as if I hoped to some how fall fast asleep in those precious few moments between moving off the bed, to touching the floor with my bare feet, and standing up-right. Which didn't happen, needless to say.

I pulled on a pair of sweats and a clean t-shirt before going down stairs. My parents were already in the dining room, not having started eating yet.

I eyed the casserole centered in the middle of the table, warily. Casserole is something I've come to distrust in my many years of being fed it. Casserole is essentially a pan filled with whatever random crap you can find in the kitchen, then melted together in one steaming heap of… I wish I could tell you.

I took a seat between my parents, where they sat at the heads of the rectangular table. "So, what is it tonight?" I asked as I shook out my napkin and put it on my lap.

"Tuna casserole," my mom answered merrily, ignoring my cynical tone.

"Huh," I murmured, mostly to myself. My dad passed me the ceramic pan to me, from where he'd already carved out a square section. I used my fork to cut out another piece, and passed the platter to my mom.

She was glaring at me as she took the pan from me. "You _are_ eating this, Edward Anthony Masen."

"I didn't say anything," I said, defensively.

"Mm-hm," she hummed doubtfully.

"So," my father said, changing the subject –always the placator- "I saw Charlie Swan today, at lunch. Told me his daughter started school today."

My mom nodded. "Yes, Edward told me she's in one of his classes." She looked over to me meaningfully.

"My biology class," I clarified.

"Did you talk to her?" my dad inquired.

"Yeah. She'd pretty nice," I said vaguely, then added, "Doesn't seem to like the attention much, though."

Mom clucked her tongue and shook her head. "She sounds just like the Chief. Nice man, but he's awfully quiet."

Dad nodded in agreement. "Charlie said he was surprised she moved here –he said she's just about as fond of Forks as her mother."

"Well, I certainly hope she comes to like it. It'd break poor Charlie's heart if she left again." She shook her head once more, then turned to me. "Be sure that you're nice to her, Eddie. I want her to feel nice and welcome."

I dipped my head, trying not to roll my eyes at my mom's preferred pet name for me. "'Course I'll be nice to her. I already said I was."

She sighed then, oddly, forlornly. "I just hope she grows to like Forks enough to stay –or at least is patient enough for it to grow on her." She speared a piece of rubbery casserole, and paused as an idea struck her. "We should invite Charlie and his daughter over for dinner this weekend, don't you think?" Her eyes sparked with excitement, dancing between my dad and I, before they landed on him.

"Er –yes, of course, dear. I think that would be lovely." He raised his eyebrows at her, and scooped some of the questionable cuisine into his mouth.

She beamed, pleased. She turned to me with the same threatening smile. "Why don't you tell Isabella that we'd love to have her and her father over for dinner."

My eyes tightened slightly, suspicious. "Why do I have to ask her? Wouldn't it be easier just for you to call Chief Swan yourself?"

"I think this would be a good opportunity for you to make Isabella feel more welcome." She watched me as she brought a forkful of casserole to her mouth.

Though I had taken a strange interest to Bella, I couldn't imagine asking her to dinner with her dad, and my parents. It would be weird. Was there any way possible for me to bring it up casually –sans the inevitable awkwardness?

Some how, I _really _doubted that.

And of course my mom would pick the one girl that had sparked a hint of interest in me, for the longest time. Of _course._ What was she thinking? I could see Bella's rejection oh, so, clearly; her red mouth twisting into a sneer, and one straight, dark, eyebrow arching upward, derisively. What an _encouraging _image that was.

"Is there something wrong?" Mom asked, like there better not be.

"Nope," I said, and stuffed probably a little too much of the tuna concoction in my mouth.

After clearing the table and loading the dishes in the dishwasher, I went upstairs to polish off my homework.

School, I can handle. I almost like it (okay, not really), but homework is a tortuous thing for me. I normally can barely force myself to start doing it, and by the time I do, I start exaggerating how much I've done in my head and tell myself I have a lot more time than I really have, so I stop. Plus, I normally have most –if not all- hours of the night to finish it. Which, I normally do. I just draw it out.

'Why?' one might ask.

The answer is simple: I enjoy pain. Clearly.

Not really. But, I can never seem to just make myself sit there and get it done.

I spent an hour finishing up my trigonometry homework, before sneaking into the kitchen, while my parents were in the living room, unawares, watching the evening news, to get a snack.

It was the cookie jar that stood out to me, as I scanned the kitchen for an ideal snack. It was like the Holy Grail; it even seemed to gleam around the edges in the dim light.

I don't know what it was with being afraid of being caught getting a snack after dinner, but I always sneak around when I do. I've even been caught red handed, with one hand in a bag of _Cheeto's _while my other hand was busy shoving a handful into my gob. My dad just looked at me, then muttered something about getting my mom a cup of coffee.

I lifted the jar lid as carefully as possible, so that it couldn't touch the ceramic lip of the opening. I took out three cookies and put the lid back on as carefully as I'd taken it off, then went to the fridge to get out a carton of milk.

I'd be lying if I said I did a whole lot during my extra awake time. I spent the rest of the night finishing my homework, resorting my CD collection, then stopping to listen to the _Band of Horses _CD I thought I'd lost that I found case-less, between a _Belle and Sebastian _and _DeVotchKa _CD, read a chapter out of _American Psycho_, checked the progress of my slowly growing, but there-ish, mustache (which I decided to carefully shave; after Rosalie had one time complained about getting a rash on her face, because of Emmett's stubble, after a heavy make-out session, I couldn't really make myself have any desire for the stuff), lifted some weights, did a couple hundred pushups, and so on. I obviously had a lot of time on my hands.

Around four-thirty I decided to try my luck at _Ambien. _I settled into bed like I was going to sleep and closed my eyes, imagining myself falling into REM sleep. I imagined myself waking up hours later, fully rested and fully restored. But I wouldn't be ungrateful for the one hour I would be lucky to get.

I didn't dream that much when I slept. I like that better. Dreams make sleep un-restful, disconcerting. After the accident, I used to have this horrible recurring nightmare where the whole scene would be recreated, only instead of screaming, _she _was laughing hysterically, while I killed _her _again and again. I used to wake up from those nightmares drenched in cold sweat, and wretch over the side of my bed. But then I sort of stopped sleeping very much, and when I did sleep, I slept too deeply for dreams.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, my alarm clock was going off.

Ah, the _joys_ of insomnia.


	3. chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I think it should go without saying that I have no ownership over the Twilight series. I mean, come on. **

**Chapter 3: Bella**

I felt relief in the idea that today was no longer my first day of school. Hopefully by then everyone had adjusted to me being there, and would go on their merry ways. Of course, as luck would have it, that didn't necessarily happen.

"Hey!" Alice called from behind me, as I made my way to English. I swiveled around to face her, and smiled, a little plastically.

She jogged up to me; she was smiling brilliantly, and came to a halt in front of me. "Hey," she said again, by way of greeting. "You should come hang out with me after school. Rosalie, Karen, and Angela will be there too."

I marveled once again how casually, and easily she spoke to me. She invited me over, as if it were a usual occurrence. And I actually did feel bad to have to turn down the offer. "I'm sorry, Alice, but I have to go grocery shopping after school," I apologized.

Her smile remained fixed on her elfish face, undeterred. "Why don't you just go after?"

I scrambled for a way to dispute her suggestion, for a moment, before giving in. "I –I guess I could do that. Okay."

Alice's grin stretched, impossibly, wider. "Excellent," she said. "Let me give you the address." She took out a pen from her bag, and a scrap of paper, and scribbled out the address.

"See you at lunch," she said as she hurried off to class, and waved over her shoulder.

The whole stretch between then and lunch passed very tediously. More so even, than the day before. I knew it was only because this wasn't a new experience anymore. People were now used to my presence. Jessica all but ignored me in trig, though Mike was as kind to me as yesterday. He asked me if I did the Spanish homework –which I had- and if I was going to eat with the same group at lunch, as I had yesterday –which I was.

The table was just as crowded as on Monday, if not more. I gazed at it, lamenting, as I had yesterday, of my social ineptitude.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped a little, and made a sound half way between a squeak and a shriek. Alice stood by my side, smiling. "Easy, Bella," she said.

I clutched my chest and let out a breath. "You startled me," I scolded, half-heartedly.

"That, I did. Why don't you come eat lunch with us today?" The way she said 'us' made me think she wasn't including Mike, or his group in that statement.

"But-" Mike began to say, but Alice promptly cut him off.

"You have Spanish and bio with Bella. I don't have _any _classes with her. You'll live."

He frowned, however didn't argue. "Fine. See you in Bio," he said to me, then turned to head to his table.

"I thought you ate lunch with Mike, too," I said, confused.

Alice shrugged. "Sometimes we do. But, it's hard to fit everybody at one table. Plus, Mike's group is a little … superficial. A classic high school clique."

"So then, where do you and your friends sit?" I asked, scanning the large hall, though I didn't know whom to look for.

"Right there." She pointed with a small, thin, finger a table not ten feet from us. As I scrutinized the many occupants of the table, I recognized the back of Rosalie's and the pretty Asian girl I'd seen her talk to yesterday's head, and Emmett, Jasper, and Chris sitting across from them. The table was near jam packed with other people I hadn't seen on my first day. And here I'd been assuming Alice's group was smaller, perhaps. I sighed, heavily.

Either Alice pretended to not have heard me, or had and was ignored my vocal exasperation. Either way, she continued on cheerily. "You should sit with Angela and me."

"Sure," I said. Oddly enough, though I knew I had the option to decline, I didn't really want to. I liked Alice. Oddly enough.

Alice sat herself across from Angela, and I sat next to her.

"Hi, Bella," Angela greeted shyly.

"Hey," I said back, pleased there was someone else as diffident as I was.

I noticed Rosalie out of the corner of my eye, saunter over to us, and stand behind Angela. "Hey, Alice?" she said. She glanced in my direction and smiled very slightly, to my utter surprise. She looked away before I could do but gape, dumbly.

"Oui?" Alice answered, with out looking up, as she took a sandwich out of her lunch bag.

"Whose house did we say we were meeting at?"

"Yours, I believe," Alice said, looking up to Rosalie then. "We _always _hang out at my house."

"Not true. Last time we were at Ashley's and the time before that we were and Olivia's."

"Then the time before that we were at my house," the Asian girl put in.

"Thanks for the support, Karen," Alice muttered, darkly. "However, every other time before that, we were at my house. And you know what? I will no longer stand for such injustice." She took meaningful bite of her sandwich, chewed for a moment, then wrinkled her nose, daintily. "Ew. Bologna."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "And the guys will _not _be coming, correct?"

"What?" Emmett demanded. "I thought we got to come."

"Sorry, Em," Alice said, unapologetically. "Girls only."

"Well… " He paused, struggling to find a comeback for a moment before muttering, "Forget you guys."

Rosalie went over to Emmett and sat in his lap. Jasper got up from the table and slung his backpack over one shoulder, and came to give Alice a kiss and tell her he had to go over an essay in his English class. He'd see her later. Alice talked to me about what to expect in PE and if I liked to book we were reading in English. It was different than small talk. It was actual talk, which I hadn't really experienced from many people aside from my mom. It was strange to be conversing with a classmate in such a casual way. With Alice, I didn't feel judgment or pressure. She was patient and interested, and laughed at my lame jokes. Which I had to appreciate.

"Hey, Ben," Angela greeted a short Asian boy, that came around the table to sit next her. She blushed, her expression delighted.

"Hey, Ang," he said back, with a sigh as he stuffed an accordion folder he'd been holding into his backpack.

Edward, to my surprise, took a seat next to me. "Seriously, fuck that," he said, to Ben. His tone was harsh, irritated. I felt a blush crawl up to my hairline, and my stomach spasm with something stronger than butterflies. _For the love of all things holy, why are you being so ridiculous? _I wondered to myself. _How can you feel so … so _lovesick? I recoiled from the word, but I could sense my own denial. Ridiculous as it felt, _lovesick _–shudder- fit the bill. "If Mr. Varner gives me another pre-test 'on accident' again, I'll just take the F," he went on.

Edward didn't seem to have noticed me yet, so I continued to look at him, unabashedly. He was wearing a clean white button up, the sleeves rolled up -a sharp contrast to the over-sized sweatshirt he'd worn yesterday. With out the covering of his hood, or even the perterbence of his headphones, I could see his face in sharper clarity. Though, maybe it was just our proximity. His skin wasn't just fair, but washed out, ashen. There were deep circles fanning out from under his eyes. How had I not noticed that yesterday? I wondered to myself. Even so, he was still very handsome, I thought.

Ben shook his head, in weary agreement. "I definitely hear you.

"What happened?" Alice asked, from my other side.

Edward turned to Alice, but froze when he saw me there. We both stared at each other for a prolonged awkward moment. He exhaled slowly. "Hey –Bella. Sorry, I didn't see you."

My face felt hot. "No worries, really."

Alice cleared her throat.

Edward looked to her. "Mr. Varner gave me the pre-test instead of the actual test. Again."

"He's doing it on purpose," Ben put in. "Same thing happened to me a couple of weeks ago."

"No shit," Edward said, a little awed, and a little disgusted. He scowled deeply, and his lips thinned. "I'm boycotting. I refuse to retake the test again. The pre-test and the real test are pretty much the same thing, just different problems. And I took it twice, so that should count for something," he said as he took a Red Bull out of his backpack.

I turned away and shook my head, in an attempt at ridding it of my ridiculousness. What was _wrong _with me? And _why _oh, _why _did he have to be so good looking?

I noticed suddenly that Alice was talking to me. "Sorry –what were you saying?"

A knowing smile pulled at Alice's lips but all she said was, "You know how to get to the address I gave you, right?"

"Um, yes." I took it out of my pocket and looked at it. "It's sort of on the out-skirts of town, I think."

"Yep," Alice said. "There aren't that many houses in that area, so it should be easy to find. Not to mention Rosalie's house is big. And brick. It's not that hard to miss. But you could just follow my car, if you want."

I nodded. "I might do that. I don't have the best sense of direction."

Alice laughed. "Well, you're in good company, because my sense of direction is flawless, if I do say so for myself."

I realized that I'd forgotten to pack a something to eat, or bring money for lunch here. My stomach felt too uneasy to eat, anyway, what with Edward sitting not four inches away from me. I continued to steal glances at him through out the period, but I only caught him looking at me, once, and he quickly jerked his eyes from mine. I had noticed red, color his ears, though, after, and I felt a sort of satisfaction because of it.

It was right as I was walking to bio when it happened, though. Someone's hand rested on my shoulder to halt me, and the strangest current surged through me, at the simple touch. I wasn't surprised to see Edward standing there behind me. "Hey," he said breathlessly, as he pushed his hair out of his face. "Bella."

"Um, yes?" I replied, stunned. My heart pounded erratically in my chest, threatening to burst through my sternum.

He pulled his long, fingers through his hair again –a motion of stress. I watched the pieces shift back into place, like strands of soft silk. His hand was shaky and his neck and ears were pink. "Look, this is going to sound really weird, but –oh, jeez- _okay_: my mom wanted me to invite you to our house for dinner Saturday or Sunday night. With your dad, of course." The blush stained his cheeks now. It didn't make his complexion healthier looking, but rather, feverish.

"Oh, wow," were the only words I could come up with at the moment, taken aback.

"You don't have to come," he quickly added, misreading my awe. "Really, it wouldn't be a big deal, at all." His hand dragged through his hair time thrice.

"No, no!" I hurried to say. "We'd love to come. I just didn't expect such a- such a… " I trailed off awkwardly, and changed my direction with a small, forced smile. "Thank you. Really."

He looked almost winded by my answer –stunned, kind of. "Oh," he sighed. His shoulders dropped, comically, in his relief, from their fixed position. "Okay. Yeah. All right." He nodded to himself. "Great." One corner of his mouth twitched up into an almost genuine smile. "Mind if I walk you to class?" he asked, so suddenly I didn't even respond for a beat.

"Of course, not."

His lips turned up on both sides then, into a brilliant grin. "Lead the way."

The bell rang just before we got in the door. The whole right side of my body -the side he was walking on- tingled the entire walk to class. If I'd moved my arm, just so, I would have brushed against him, and the thought both filled me with girlish glee, and annoyance.

"Thank you for being on time, Mr. Masen, and Miss Swan," Mr. Banner, said as we entered the classroom. "Why don't you two make yourselves comfortable, in your seats. No, I insist."

"Thank you for the comic relief, Mr. Banner," Edward muttered under his breath.

"What's that, Masen?"

"Nothing."

I prepared for Edward to remain silent, and to take notes, on part two of cell anatomy, studiously, but felt his elbow nudge mine. I looked up to him, then the notebook paper, he'd passed to me. It had two lines written in his neat print:

_Are you just agreeing to go, because you want to spare my feelings, or are you serious? I can handle the heartbreak, if you turn down the invitation, honest._

I frowned down at his words. Why on earth would he think that I didn't want to come? What a ludicrous assumption. I passed the note back with my response:

_**Of course, I'm serious. Why wouldn't I want to come? **_

I watched his expression change as he read my note. He pressed his lips together to hide a smile and passed the paper back with his reply:

_I don't know. It just was a little out of the blue, considering you've been here not even a whole week, and someone you hardly know has invited you to dinner. _

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at the irony and wrote:

_**I thought everyone in Forks was nice and chummy. Maybe it's just me, but I figure it'd be easier to fit in with the locals. **_

This time he allowed himself to smile. He scribbled out his answer and slid the paper across the desk, to me.

_Wouldn't want there to be any gossip about the chief's anti-social daughter, now would we? She's probably a schizo, they'd say. _

My lips turned up into a smile of my own.

_**Could be a sociopath. **_

He wrote a retort and passed me the notebook paper again.

_Either way, I'm not letting her near my kids. Damn psycho. Should be institutionalized. _

I giggled, and Mr. Banner turned from the whiteboard. His eyes scanned the back of the classroom, but I miraculously managed to keep my face straight. "That better not be who I _think _it is," he warned.

Edward glanced up at Mr. Banner, then added something to his note:

_He better not mean, me, because that was definitely a giggle, and males do not giggle. It's a known fact_

I bit the inside of my cheek, to keep myself from any out-bursts of mirth. I wrote a reply:

_**I think it's okay for the male gender to giggle. **_

He shook his head, as he wrote and handed me the paper, then, under the table.

_Actually, it's not. _

I scribbled back to him, in my hardly legible hand and passed it to him, the same way he had for me.

_**What? Too manly?**_

He rolled his eyes, before glancing up at Mr. Banner, who was blathering on about the mitochondria, unaware. Edward wrote on his thigh, and passed me his note:

_Duh. _

Before I could even crack a smile, Mr. Banner called the full class to attention. He held a stack of paper, and broke it up into sections, before handing a section to each row of tables. "We are going to do a partner project. This project will make up a _third _of your grade. Count it, people. Not a fifth, not a forth, but a _third _of your grade."

Two papers made it back to Edward and I. I scanned the requirements and worried. I fervently hoped whomever I ended up with as my partner, was someone who was likable. And wouldn't slack off on their half.

"Your partners will be … drum roll, please … your lab partner."

The class became a commotion of rejoice, and despair. I heard Edward sigh quietly. It sounded like it was out of relief, but I couldn't be sure.

"Quiet down, everyone," Mr. Banner called, cupping his hands to his mouth. "No one is allowed to switch partners. If you can work with your lab partner in school, then you can do it outside of school. You can see your friends outside of class. I expect you to honestly collaborate with your partner on this project. It's a lot of work, and I expect nothing but the best from my juniors." He continued to explain the project, but I wasn't listening.

I worried. I had to be with Edward outside of school, and it was nerve racking enough just being with him _in _school. He seemed to like me now, but he would soon find me less amusing, or whatever it was that kept him talking to me. He probably wasn't even that interested in me, anyway. And that sigh? Definitely not a sigh of relief. Why would I even jump to that conclusion? Suddenly, everything got twisted all the way backwards, and everything Edward had said to me in humor, seemed in mockery, and any sign of interest seemed so obviously feigned. Probably I should have just restrained myself from picking every little thing he'd said to me, to pieces, but once I got started, it was hard to stop.

"So," Edward said, slowly. "How do you want to do this?" He turned to look at me.

I blushed, deeply. "Ahm. I –I don't know. What do you mean?"

"I mean, we don't really have to worry about this being due, anyway, for a while, but, it doesn't hurt to have a … a plan, I guess. I don't know." He glanced away, the color returning to his ears.

"No, that's fine, I get it. Are we going to partner up after school, or something, or…?" I trailed off. _Oh, God, could this get any more awkward? _I wondered. Why was I making this moment out to be so much more monumental than it really was?

He nodded. "Yeah, we should do that. Emailing each other the parts of the project, just wouldn't work. Plus, he's not going to give us time in class to do it, so there would be no other time to, you know, _collaborate _in person." He picked up his pencil, hand looked like he was about to write something down on the page, but then he hesitated. He frowned in concentration for a long moment, before turning to me. "Maybe we should exchange numbers? So we can arrange things in the future." He fidgeted uncomfortably and his eyes turned to his sneakers.

I felt the blush spread, heating my ears and neck. _Why? Why are you blushing?_ I demanded myself. _He's not asking you out on a date, for crying out loud. _"Yes. Of course." I looked away, and busied myself with scribbling out my home phone. I tore off the corner of my paper I'd written my number on and handed it to him, just as he handed me his. I studied his smart hand. Though I knew the number was nothing personal, it felt that way, and I didn't know why.

"So, do you want to get together, or something, after school tomorrow?" he asked, uncomfortably. "For the project," he clarified, unnecessarily. He blushed harder.

I smiled at him, in an attempt at breaking the tension. _How am _I _the one trying to break the tension, here? _"I think that would be a good idea. Alice invited me to hang out with her and some of her friends today after school." I felt in awe, at the ease, the casualness that I'd managed somehow. My palms still felt slick, and hot, and my hair was sticking to the back of my neck, so I hadn't _completely _maintained a semblance of flippancy. That was a relief.

"Okay," he agreed. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but the bell rang, cutting him off. "See you later," he said with his crooked grin, before picking his bag off the floor, and leaving, before I could jam my notebook in my pack.

The notion crossed my mind before I could stop it, and I felt stupid for even thinking it –but a part of me hoped that 'later' would be a 'sooner'

oO0Oo

I gazed up at the large brick house. To call it a house was really a bit of an understatement; it was wide and red, and the porch –though 'porch indicates a certain level of quaintness, and there was nothing quaint about Rosalie's home- was yawning and white, with pillars guarding the entryway. Primly sheared, square bushes lined the walkway and stout pale blue hydrangeas sat under the wide front windows. The lawn was endless and green, with mammoth, leaning redwoods standing as sentries around the 'house'.

I heard Alice close the door of her car, behind me, having finally found her Clinique foundation, that had tumbled to the floor of her car, when she was searching for the house keys to Rosalie's house. I'd questioned her possession of the keys, and she told me she'd known Rosalie her whole life, and Rosalie's family was essentially a second family to her. "Rosalie has a key to my house, too. Most of the time we don't use them unless, we're house sitting one or the other's house, while one of us is away, or if we know that we're both going to be there. Rose is just one person in our group. I also have a key to Jasper's, Emmett's, and Edward's houses –and they have keys to each other's and Rosalie's and my house, too. Just because we're all close," she explained, as she reapplied her eyeliner.

I nodded, even though I really didn't know. I wondered what it would be like to be so close to someone that they practically invited you to invade their privacy, and you easily extended the same, for them. I couldn't imagine that. And something else struck out to me. "I didn't realize you were that close with," I paused for a minute, formulating a way to not make my probing obvious, "the guys."

Alice nodded. "Oh, yes, we're very close. Jasper's the only one I ever felt anything other than familial with, though. I've always sort of had this crush on him." She looked up at me, her expression unreadable. "I always knew we were going to end up together," she told me, matter-of-factly.

"Did you just out-right tell him?" I asked, eagerly. "Just like that?"

Alice pursed her lips, thoughtfully. "I suppose so. It wasn't that hard to admit it, though."

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you serious?"

"Bella, you're forgetting by the time I just plain told Jasper the way I felt, I'd already known him for sixteen years. Plus, it wasn't like he couldn't tell."

I processed this for a moment before choosing my next words: "And he just went along with it?"

Alice snorted. "He did better than that, thankfully. He felt the same way I did. We've been together for a year, this Sunday, you know." She closed the compact and stowed it in her bag. She looked up to me. "Why?"

I blushed. "No reason. Just curious."

I turned to admire the manor. To call it a house was really a bit of an understatement; it was wide and red, and the porch –though 'porch indicates a certain level of quaintness, and there was nothing quaint about Rosalie's home- was yawning and white, with pillars guarding the entryway. Primly sheared, square bushes lined the walkway and stout pale blue hydrangeas sat under the wide front windows. The lawn was endless and green, with mammoth, leaning redwoods standing as sentries around the 'house'.

Alice continued to scrounge the floor of her car for the make up. "Ah-ha!" She exclaimed in victory when she found it. "Rolled under the backseat, the little bastard." Just as she closed the back door to her car, someone leaned on their horn as their red car whipped around the corner, before coming to a screeching halt, and parking in the driveway to Rosalie's house. Rosalie stepped out of the driver's seat, and Karen the passenger. They waved to Alice.

"Nice entrance," Alice called to Rosalie, as she crossed the street. "Very subtle."

I quickly followed after her, uncomfortable standing alone. I was normally fine with being by myself, but in a social situation such as this, I preferred to remain courteous, if not outgoing. Which was usually the case.

Rosalie shrugged, nonchalantly, ignoring the sarcasm. "Do you want to go inside, or what? I just got the latest issue of _Vogue _and I haven't looked at it yet."

Alice beamed and clapped her hands excitedly. "Right. Of course."

Rosalie took us inside then. The house was very wide and open, and furnished with classic pieces. The parquet floor gleamed from the light slanting from the windows. We followed Rosalie up a large staircase, and down a hallway. She opened a door at the end of the hallway, and led us inside. The room matched the rest of the house in its spaciousness. There was a large bed with pale pink, satiny duvet, centered at the wall to the left, and a window with a view out to the street.

I fell to watching them socialize, while I sat on the edge of Rosalie's bed, next to Alice. They bantered on what their favorite current labels were –Alice urged that _Marc by Marc Jacobs_ was the best while Rosalie argued that _Valentino_ was the better. Karen commented on both parties, but didn't seem to pick a side. I had nothing to add; I didn't know anything about either of the designers. I didn't even know who they were.

Angela arrived with two other girls. She apologized for being late, and complained fondly about her brothers disrupting her leaving. The two other girls introduced themselves as Ashley and Olivia. They quickly joined in with Alice, Rosalie, and Karen on their debate. Angela however sat next to me, on my other side.

"How are you adjusting to Forks?" she questioned politely.

I smiled dryly. "Fine, I think. At least, better than I'd anticipated."

She smiled back. "Well, that's good. I know it must be strange to live some place so much the opposite of what you're used to," she said.

I shrugged. "Strong dislike of bad weather is in my blood," I explained.

Alice turned to me, suddenly and asked me, quite out of the blue, "What was your first boyfriend like?"

"What?" I asked, taken aback.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Come on. Just say it. We're discussing how your first boyfriend is never really… up to snuff, so to speak. Ashley is being ridiculous and saying her first was her best."

"Um," I looked down at my hands, in my lap. _Of all the lousy questions to ask. _"I –Well, I've never really, er, well, dated, before. I've never had a boyfriend, or anything." I pressed my hands on my cheeks, in a useless attempt at making the blood recede from them, back to my normal pale pallor.

Alice gaped at me, disbelievingly. "No way. I refuse to believe that."

"Why?" I asked. I didn't think it would be that hard to believe.

"What do you mean, 'why'?" Alice demanded. "You're smart, you're pretty. Why shouldn't you have a boyfriend?"

I noticed much to my embarrassment that everyone else was looking at me with the same confusion Alice was. "I've never been asked out," I said, plainly. I nibbled my lip, self-consciously.

Alice blinked, slowly. "I am… confused."

Rosalie snickered, and Alice shot her a glare.

I blushed. "What's there to be confused about?"

Alice pursed her lips. "I just think it's a little odd, is all. I don't know."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Give it a rest, Alice." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned to Ashley. "I honestly don't get how Newton could've been such a great catch as a first boyfriend."

She scowled defensively. "He was really sweet –he had manners, you know. Not a lot of guys can say the same."

"He's a vag," Rosalie huffed.

Karen and Olivia laughed. "What does that even mean?" Ashley demanded.

"It means, he might as well have one. He's a total ass-kissing slime-ball," Rosalie continued with a sickly sweet smile.

"He is _not!_" Ashley exclaimed. "He's so nice. He bought me flowers and took me to this really nice restaurant in Seattle, and- and…" She trailed off for a moment, thinking of another argument in his defense. "I don't know. He's just a good guy, okay?"

"You're such a cradle robber, Ash," Karen snickered. "You know Tom is totally into you. Why don't you go out with him?"

Ashley made a face, but didn't say anything.

I stopped paying to the conversation again, after that. Alice would sometimes attempt to turn the conversation to me, but I was a fish out of water when it came to any kind of romantic experience with boys. I would just give her a monosyllabic answer, and smile politely.

Some how I thought I'd be spared this feeling of isolation here. Like, maybe even Alice's genuine friendliness, and Angela's sincere questions might make me fit in Forks. Like, maybe because this was a fresh start, and because there was less people to make such an opposition to my single self I wouldn't feel so alone. Like, maybe I could even find my own niche in this sad and sodden little nowhere. Like, maybe I wasn't just by myself, and there was a half to my incomplete whole. It was kind of silly, because if I was at all logical in considering my situation I would see that Phoenix would be the more sensible place for me to find where I really belonged, not tiny insignificant Forks.

The sharp reverberation of a crash sounded from down stairs and started me out of my wallowing.

"What the fuck?" Rosalie said, getting up, and going to her door to open it. "Mom?" she shouted. She slipped out the door. Then I heard her yell it again, muffled by distance.

Then, "Hey, Rosy!" I heard Emmett's distinct voice shout.

Alice got up then, and went out the door, muttering what sounded like profanities under her breath.

I frowned, confused, but waited on the edge of the bed, unsure of what else to do. Rosalie and Alice came back in the room then, bickering.

"…Tell them to come?" Rosalie was saying to Alice.

"Of course not! You heard me at lunch, didn't you?" Alice snapped.

"Why are they here then?"

I never got to find out Alice's response, that I could see about to roll right off her tongue, hesitating in the air, because Emmett, Jasper, followed by _Edward –_of all people- entered the room.

It was a strange moment then, all warped into slow motion, just so it almost didn't make sense as Edward looked up from the floor, which he was glaring at, and his face froze, and I thought I saw something in his face, relax into an expression I hadn't seen on a person's face before, before he smiled a small, artificial smile.

And I felt myself freeze -my shoulders stiffen, my eyelids petrify, and my mouth become fixed. All my senses became sharpened, and anxiety stole me. I felt like a bit of a dolt, just staring at him like that.

But, he didn't seem to have any of those feelings, because he came to stand right in front of me and said, with the most ease, the least effort, "Fancy seeing you here."

His 'later' had certainly become my 'sooner'.

**A/N: I have a few things I just want to get out there, but I'd like it if my readers too the time to read what I have to say:**

**1) Unfortunately, I can't update as often as I'd like to. I'm taking an extra class this year, and I don't want to fall behind. I'll try to update every two weeks, which isn't **_**horrible, **_**but I know it isn't that great. **

**2) Please review! Reviews are actually very helpful and encouraging to me. I like to know what my readers think of what I write. Especially when there are positive things to be said, because it makes me feel like I'm doing a good job and want to write more. Of course, I'd also like to get con-crit too, so I know what I need to improve. Anyone who is a writer themself, I think, can understand why I would ask for reviews. If I didn't care for my writing to get commented on, I wouldn't have posted here in the first place. So, please review!**


	4. chapter 4

Chapter 4: Edward

_Sorry about how cracked my grammar skills were in the previous chapter. If anyone knows how to edit things on this site, please inform me, because I have issues with it D _

_Disclaimer: Not mine. I mean, some of it's mine, but generally, not. Vague disclaimer is vague. I know._

**Chapter 4: Edward**

"_Ten _bucks? Just for a bucket of popcorn and some pop? Is this a joke?"

I struggled to repress a deep sigh, as I forced on the most sympathetic smile I could manage to the harried movie patron. One of her three kids let out a wail as he dropped his M&M's on the floor. "Nope," I said.

"This is theft –robbery!" she sputtered as she took her wallet out of her purse."

"Absolutely," I agreed, cheerfully, as I stowed her money in the register. "Enjoy your movie."

She rudely snubbed my wishes, and stalked off, dragging her protesting children.

The nerve of some people.

"Next," I said with my most bland, I-really-am-glad-to-be-here-no-really-I-mean-it smile, and looked to my next customer.

Emmett, Jasper, and Chris, strolled up to the counter, all staring in different directions. Too casual. I mean, really. Who did they think they were kidding?

"I told you guys not to bother me," I said. "I'm at work. I got in trouble last time."

"You didn't say that," Jasper disputed, still carefully inspecting the candy, haloed under the glass casing, of the counter.

"Actually, I did. I specifically recall telling you not to come here, for any reason, whatsoever." Calm. I could be calm. Deep breaths. Very. Very. Deep. Breaths.

"Oh," said Jasper. He glanced at me. "Well, we forgot."

"_Forgot,_" I repeated. "Ha!" I laughed. "You just –_forgot_!" I laughed again. "That's pretty fucking convenient, I have to say."

Jasper shrugged. "Emmett was in charge of remembering."

"You know what?" Emmett said, breaking away from giving the popcorn machine a glazed stare. "Fuck you, Jazz. You always pin the blame on me, you know that?"

"I do _not_," Jasper grumbled, now rounding on Emmett. "You-"

"Shut up," I hissed. "Go _away. _Now." I realized my hands had some how managed to twist their ways into slick ready fists.

Oops. So much for calm.

"Dude," Emmett, said turning from Jasper. "We're just looking out for you, right Jazz?"

I cut Jasper off, before he could respond, before he could open his mouth.

People were starting to complain in line. "What's the hold up?" they were saying. My co-workers were glaring at me, giving me annoyed looks. Sam, my manager, was eyeing me from across the lobby. _Do I need to take care of this? _his expression was asking. _'Cause, I have got to tell you, I really better not._

"Why are you here?" I whispered.

"Who says we're not here to see a movie?" Emmett groused.

"But, you're not," I said, slowly.

"You don't know that," he told me.

I raised my eyebrows, doubtfully. "Are you?"

"Well… no, but you shouldn't just jump to conclusions like that."

I sighed. I pulled on my synthetic, I-don't-know-you-personally smile, and said, "Kindly, please leave. Thank you. Next." I smiled to the next person, waiting in line, indicating it was now his turn. _No, these gentlemen aren't a bother. Do I know them? Ha! What would make you think that? _

Jasper waved a hand across my face. He grinned, a bit manically at my disparaging expression. "Look, I know how much you love working at the movie theater, and how much you love your paycheck, but there are better ways to spend your days. We're still young. Who says we have to start hitting the daily grind the minute we're of age? Not, I, my friend. Nor, these fellows. So come! Join us in our crusade to… ah, well, that's to be disclosed. What say you?"

I worry about my friends' sanity sometimes. Just putting that out there.

"Impressive speech," I complimented Jasper. "Still not coming." I beamed, at the man, who was waiting at Chris's elbow, with his date, giving pointed glances at his Rolex. "Next," I repeated.

"You can't just blow us off," Emmett protested, his brow crunched into a frown. "Come on."

"No. I explicitly told you not to come. Ergo, you get blown off. Go away."

"No. We're bored. And I want to crash Rosalie's thing with Alice, and Bella," Emmett very nearly whined.

Wait –what? "Why?" I demanded, my interest suddenly piqued. _Do you not remember at all the blushing? The blundering? _Her_ blushing? _Her_ blundering? _I reminded myself, unnecessarily. _Why would knowingly subject yourself to that? _A more intrusive, more worrying thought occurred to me: _Why not?_

"What do you mean, 'why'?" Emmett rolled his eyes. "I'm bored. And Rosalie has a nice pair of tits. What more reason do I need?"

I stared at Emmett for a long moment,worried how much shame he had before saying, "Okay, one: that was unnecessary, and two: leave."

"I think you forget," Emmett said, his tone hard, as he leaned over the counter. "That I used to throw you in the dumpster on _Freshmen Friday_. I think if you remembered that you wouldn't be snubbing us like this." His knuckles popped, accentuating his point nicely.

I noticed movement in my peripheral vision, and saw Sam striding across the lobby, headed straight for me, his expression mask-like, irritated. Scary.

"Leave!" I hissed to Emmett, Jasper, and Chris –who was still vacantly staring at the backlit menu, hanging behind me. "Now!"

Jasper's brow furrowed, confused by my urgency, but that moment of hesitation was a moment too long.

"Can I help you with something?" Sam asked with strangely polite menace.

Jasper and Emmett turned, slowly, to face him –Emmett jabbed Chris in the ribs, with his elbow, who glared at Emmett in confusion, for a moment, before becoming aware of Sam. "'Sup, mofo."

I felt the color leave my face.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there a problem?" he asked, clearly indicating they were in fact the problem.

"Listen, Sam," Emmett said, taking a step toward him. "Can I call you Sam?" he asked then.

"Do I have some other name that I'm unaware of?" Sam stood his ground, arms crossed.

A normal person here, would back down, apologize, stare at their feet, hunch their shoulders, and scurry away. Emmett, however, is not a normal person, so he laughed and clapped a hand on Sam's broad shoulder and said, "Fair enough. Look, Sam, I think we all know that Ed, here, -as much as we all love him- doesn't get out enough."

I rubbed my hand up, then down my face. _Jesus H. Christ. _

Sam glanced at Emmett's hand, on his shoulder, reproachfully. He looked back up, to Emmett's face, and said, honestly, curiously, "So what exactly is it that you're saying? You want him to just leave his job? People get fired for that kind of thing, you know."

It was the curiosity that did it.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

Goddamn, I couldn't catch a break.

Emmett grinned, widely, sensing his easy victory. If Sam had just held out a little longer, Emmett would give up, just as easily as Jasper had as soon as Sam came –he'd sort of taken a step back, and shuffled off to the side, trying to save himself from Sam's wrath.

"Precisely. Ed's my friend, Sam, and well, I just feel like all he does is work, and then school, which is synonymous with work, as far as I'm concerned. Save for track season, but then all he does is track, school, and work. It's a vicious cycle. And you know what? I think it's time he caught his break. Just this one day, Sam. Come on. What do you say?"

Sam breathed deeply through his nostrils, his eyes closed. It worried me that I couldn't read his expression. "You came here last week saying the same thing, Emmett. What's so special about this time?" he said finally, opening his eyes, to challenge Emmett's stumped expression.

Surprise of all surprises Chris had the answer to Emmett's quandary. "This time some females are involved, if you catch my drift." He grinned, a toothy, suggestive grin.

My face paled again and my palms tingled to strangle Chris. "Sam," I said, not bothering to keep the stress out of my voice. "Ignore them. They were on their way out." I shot desperate glances at Emmett and Chris –Jasper had wandered off toward the doorway, and was acting as a doorman, tipping a non-existent hat, and holding the door open as people emptied from the theater. Lisa, the assistant manager, looked like she was headed straight toward him; She wore an expression that was half way between confused and irritated by what he was doing.

Sam just smirked at me, the asshole. "When was the last time you _went out_, Masen? With a … _female?_" he asked me, mock innocence positively drowning his words.

My eyes tightened. "Last year," I admitted with out missing a beat.

He nodded slowly. He looked back at Emmett. "All right. I've made my decision."

I held my breath, hoping against reason that Sam would tell Emmett to leave. Leave the movie theater. Leave me be. Realistically, this wouldn't go the way I hoped it would. A guy could only hope.

He turned to face me, then, full on, and examined me. He finally announced, "You owe me early shift for this one, Ed. I'll cover for you, but I don't want this to become a habit, you hear?"

I gaped at him. "No!" I gasped. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am. Have fun. Emmett better not be lying about those girls." He winked at me as he walked away, clearly misreading my expression –overtly, I would even dare to say.

"Emmett," I uttered through grit teeth.

"There's no time for that Ed," Emmett interrupted. "We have to find Jasper, and leave, now, before it's too late."

I knew when I'd been defeated, so I walked around the far end of the counter, and followed Emmett and Chris. They'd found Jasper who was leaning against the wall next to a door that said "EMPLOYEES ONLY". He nodded to us, as we approached.

I followed them out of the theater, and I began to walk towards my car, but Emmett snagged a handful of my shirt. "What?"I demanded.

His brow puckered. "How do I know that you're not going to just go home, or circle back?" He let go of my shirt.

Truthfully I didn't have an answer to that. I mean, I couldn't very well tell him that the promise of seeing Bella was enough, because even I knew how that would come off as. I didn't even know why I all of a sudden wanted to see Bella so bad in the first place.

However, I would have done anything I could to not leave my car there, so I came up with a lame, but semi-believable explanation: "I might as well go, I mean, Sam already kicked me out, and I don't like work _that _much."

Emmett scrutinized my expression for a long moment, before coming to the decision I was telling the truth. "All right. You know the way to Rose's. See you there."

Driving to Rosalie's, I had a near panic attack. I used to have them after the accident. Just in the car, though. The first time I got in a car after the accident was when mom decided I was well enough to go to school. Because my car was in the shop, my mom had to drive me –which I had been thankful for, because I felt the inexplicable fear of driving myself. Then, all of a sudden, I just started freaking out –hyperventilating, nausea, and all that jolly goodness. Mom pulled over on the side of the road, and I just bolted out, and told her I would walk to school –I was already late anyway.

But this was a different kind of panic attack. This was the panic attack I had in seventh grade when Lauren Mallory told me she'd show me her bare, just barely pubescent, breasts after school behind the dumpsters, against the bike racks.

_Do I look okay? Presentable?_

_No, of course not._

_How's my breath? _

_Does she even want to see me? _

_Will it be weird?_

_Oh, God, of course it'll be weird!_

_She'll think I'm some kind of stalker!_

_Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you dumb fuck, look what you've gotten yourself into._

_ Deep. Deep. Deep. Breaths. _

How was I even having a panic attack about this? Why on earth was I even bothering to get so worked up about Bella Swan? For one thing, I had certainly had girlfriends before, and more random no-strings-attached-hook-ups. I had experience with girls. Sure, I hadn't dated since after the accident. But I knew I couldn't. And I knew I still couldn't. I honestly had hardly registered girls as anything more than the male counter-part since then. It was easier that way. And now that I felt the not-so-pleasant stirrings of these old feelings, it brought on a round of some not-so-easy-to-bear memories. Knots of emotion formed in my throat and chest.

I fumbled with the stereo, turning it on, so I could possibly divert my mind from the thrumming emotion filling me. _Deep. Deep. Deep. Breaths. _

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I took it out, checking the ID screen first. "Jazz?"

"Emmett wants me to ask you 'Is there a female in particular we should be anticipating, that you want to see?'" Jasper reiterated. "Whatever that means. Is there really some girl though that has actually –dare I say it- caught your eye?"

I rolled my eyes, though I knew Jasper couldn't see it. "Why is Emmett having you do his dirty work?"

"I volunteered," he told me. "So, cut the crap, and tell me who this girl is."

"Why does Emmett think there's 'a female in particular' you should be anticipating?" I lied through my teeth.

I heard Jasper repeat my question to Emmett, then Emmett's voice, though I couldn't decipher distinct words. "He says it's because of what Chris said to Sam. Hey, what _did _Chris say to Sam?"

"He just said that to get me out of work." I had to wonder, though, how had Chris managed pick up on my out of place reaction to Bella? Or had he?

Jasper repeated my answer the Emmett, and I heard Chris's voice pipe in, less distinct than Emmett's. I heard Jasper's coarse laugh. "Okay, so Chris says that he was _not _making that up –that there is a girl. Fess up."

"There is _not _a girl. I don't even know why Chris thinks that."

"There _is _a girl, Ed. Just spill it, okay? You'll feel a lot better once you do."

"_No_," I argued, like it was the truth. "There isn't a girl, so just let it rest.

"Please don't make me wheedle it out of you," Jasper pleaded. "I can tell you're lying."

I considered saying that I was innocent of lying, but then it kind of seemed like over kill. Instead I found myself irritated. "Why do you care so much anyway? So what if I like a girl? It's not like I've never had a girlfriend before."

"Yeah," Jasper said slowly. I sensed he was tasting his next words, before he said them, carefully picking the right thing to say. "It's just, after Tanya, you –well, you know. You haven't even looked at a girl in that way since. It's kind of monumental.

It's strange how her name still caused me a moment of mental tumult –or more like electro-shock. I was silent for a moment, grappling with the thin line that was my sanity. "Monumental?" I choked out. "Hardly."

A gust of Jasper's breath made the air waves shudder loudly in my ear. "Please do not make me go all bro-mance, Ed. Just take my word for it, that this is in fact a very monumental thing."

"Okay, whatever you say Jazz," I said, trying to sound like I didn't know exactly what he meant.

Jasper laughed. "You'll see. All right. Adios, amigo. See you at Rosie's."

I gave myself a rigorous prep talk the rest of the drive. I _could _and I _would _do this, with out blushing, and fumbling for words and wit. I would do this with my head high, my shoulders broad, and with a very sure sense of calm. I would be the very picture of ease. The pinnacle of debonair charm.

This also wouldn't have any effect with out lots and lots of deep breathing. I stopped, when I was within a mile of Rosalie's because it was starting to sound like my own personal Lamaze class. I felt like that'd be kind of a strange mentality to have going into this inevitable mess.

I parked my car farther down the street, since both Alice's modest second-hand Civic and a familiar crumbling red Chevy pick-up had stolen the prime parking places across the street from Rosalie's house.

I took some time to collect myself, centering myself, before Jasper, Emmett, and Chris arrived. Who cares if she doesn't like me –if it's awkward –if I commit some accidental faux pas? Not I.

At least, that was what I was trying to convince myself.

I felt my entire car vibrate, and a loud, blob of a sound, pulsated and quaked in my eardrums. I looked in my rear view mirror just as Chris's quivering lemon of a car parked behind me, the bass turned up higher than the music actually playing. And I use music very lightly here. The blasting sound cut off, and Emmett, Chris, and Jasper got out of the car. I followed suit, getting out of my own car.

I started to head toward the front door, but Emmett yanked me back, and hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Um. Going to Rose's house?"

"We're not supposed to be here, remember, dumb-ass?" Emmett reminded me, good-naturedly.

"Right."

"We'll go around back," he said. "We have to be quiet."

I skulked around back after Emmett, who lead the way, though I didn't see the point in sneaking around, if we were here to see Rose, anyway. And why did it matter, front or back door, anyway? Most of the time I wouldn't question Emmett's unique sense of logic, internally, or no, but I was on edge. Therefore, lots of irate mental questioning was in order.

Emmett eased his key into the back door -like Rosalie could even hear it. With a metallic crunch, the key slid all the way in. He peeked carefully into the small square of glass in the top, middle of the door. Apparently the coast was clear, because he gently twisted the knob, and pushed the door open, and slipped through the opening, as silently as a person could who was six foot five and could bench two-fifty, easy. I went in, after him, catching the door as it began to swing back, and held it for Chris. Chris held it for Jasper, who swung the door closed behind him with a very not-quiet _slam. _It was such a slam, in fact, that the pane of glass shuddered, and a picture frame next to the door fell to the floor. We all froze in place.

"Mom?" I heard Rosalie's voice call, uncertainly, from upstairs.

"Jasper Whitlock, I swear to God," Emmett began to threaten.

"Mom?" Rosalie called again, irritation touching her tone now. Her voice was closer.

In a snap, Emmett was grinning, and shouted back, "Hey, Rosy!"

Then a gasp, and quick feet down the stairs, and then Rosalie rounded the corner of the hallway behind the kitchen, and suddenly she was in the back room. "What. The. Fuck," she bit out. Her icy eyes twitched between us, narrowing.

Alice was abruptly through the door, then at Rosalie's side, wearing a matching expression of annoyance. "Why did you come?"

Jasper started mumbling apologies, while Emmett snickered. "Aw, c'mon. Is it really so God awful that we came?"

Alice and Rosalie stared at us blankly, as if we were four of the most useless morons they'd ever met. "Yes," Rosalie answered starkly. "It is."

"I don't think you understand the female bonding process at all," Alice added.

"You're right –we don't," Emmett agreed. "But we came as a … as a… _learning experience_."

Rosalie heaved a very heavy sigh, and with out another word, turned on her heel, and left us. Alice shot glares at all of us, before following Rosalie. I heard Rosalie say, "Why are they here?"

We stood there for a moment, a bit stunned in their wake of fury, before finding mobility, and making our way to Rosalie's room.

But then, as I made my way up, panic rediscovered me, and I was wrought with it. Senseless, and completely legitimate worries clouded and cajoled me. It took every fiber of my strength to bite it back, to tell myself it didn't matter how much I liked Bella Swan, because I couldn't even imagine myself _with _her in the first place. And so, as I stepped over the threshold to Rosalie's room, I looked up, as ready as I ever would be, and I –of course- saw Bella Swan, first thing.

And as concentration gave way, it gave way to a sudden surge of –of what? Of something strong and deeply rooted. And disturbing as it was, I let it give way to my tight opaque covering, and smiled to her, with out hesitation or a blush, and strode right toward her, and I said, with generic charm, "Fancy seeing you here."

Emmett and Jasper both shot glances at me, from where they were situated still, by the door but otherwise carried on, walking toward Alice and Rosalie. I was going to hear about it later.

I waited for Bella's answer. My greeting hung awkwardly, and very there between us, and I tried to keep the smile on my face, and not get worried, or think about it.

"Um, yes," she finally agreed. Red bloomed into her cheeks. She gave me a once over and then complimented with much more ease, "Nice outfit. What's the occasion?"

I looked down, and assessed my attire –to which I'd some how managed to give no thought –Black pants, not quite slacks, and not quite jeans, a stiff, white button up t-shirt, a maroon vest, and black, clip-on bow-tie. Out of context, I'm sure it did look very strange. "It's my uniform for work," I explained, taking a seat next to her, slyly. Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen –_slyly. _

Bella smiled at me, her small secret smile. "Very classy," she praised. "Where do you work?"

"At a movie theater in Port Angeles." I paused then, coming to my first major bump in the conversation. I wanted to know about her. I wanted to know innate and intimate details about her. I wanted her to divulge her secrets to me, and I wanted to spin away all my truths. It was such a strange fantasy, and it only caused me to be more tongue-tied. I laced my fingers together, then, untangled them, and rested my hands on my knees.

Talk about awkward.

"Does Alice throw these things together for every new kid, or am I just lucky?" Bella asked me, her voice at a higher pitch, that marred her sarcasm, but I detected it, and laughed, a little, trying to ease the tension.

"I wouldn't know. We don't get a lot of new kids here," I told her. Then I dropped my voice to a murmur, and said, "Personally, though, I think you're a special case." I hadn't the faintest idea was that was supposed to mean, but I didn't think I'd meant it in the way Bella might figure.

She laughed, breathlessly, quietly and the blush darkened. "Um, thank you. I think."

One side of my mouth quirked up. "You're welcome." I kind of wondered in the back of my mind where I was coming up with this. It felt good to have this level of confidence again. Or at least the ability to pull off the illusion of it. But it was pretty strange that it should occur when I felt the least stable.

Awkward air again was exchanged, before Bella said hurriedly, "So, you're good friends with Alice?"

I leaned back on Rosalie's bed, propping myself up on my elbows. "Yeah. We used to all live on the same block together. Plus, our mom's are friends."

I studied the curious pattern of her blush fade, from her face. And it just struck me then, that Bella was stunning. I mean, I knew she was pretty, and I liked her, but the whole concept of _stunning _and how Bella wholly encompassed it just struck me. Okay, so maybe that's a bit of a ridiculous thing to say on the second day of knowing her, but somehow that just also seemed ridiculously true. It was a combination of a lot of things, but overall, it was the combination itself that was so lovely; her serious, dark, eyes, against her cream skin, that flowed into the undulation of her very full and supple red lips.

"Who moved then?" she asked.

"My family," I answered. "And Rose's. Alice, Emmett, and Jasper still live on the same street."

"Why did you move?" She asked, and then backtracked. "I don't mean to be intrusive, or anything, I just…" she trailed off.

I smiled. She wasn't being intrusive, I supposed, in the way she thought she was. "No worries. My family just moved, because we have this family friend, who's an architect, and she refurbished this Victorian, that she was generous enough to give to my family."

Bella's eyes widened, reasonably surprised. "_Give_?" she repeated.

"Her and her husband make a lot of money. They gave me my car for my sixteenth. It sounds weird, but that's the kind of people they are."

"Oh," she said. "Wow."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"And Rosalie?" She turned more, to face me, one leg bent, and resting on the bed, while the other dangled over the edge. She rested back on her extended arm, her palm supporting her upright. "Why did her family move?"

"Well, they used to have this house that was a lot smaller. Not really that small, but it wasn't all that big. They moved after they had Rose's younger brothers, so they could have more space."

She nodded. And the conversation was at another standstill. Except it wasn't awkward, because I could tell that Bella seemed to be mulling over another question. So I decided to take my opportunity to ask a question of my own. "What brought you to Forks anyway? You don't seem all that fond of it." I'd honestly been wondering what the answer to this inquiry was, and found myself leaning toward her, eagerly.

She leaned a little closer to myself in turn, an unconscious movement. "My mom got remarried."

"And you don't like who she married?" I guessed.

Her brow knit. "No, Phil's great."

She didn't add anything else so I had the nerve to ask, "Then, what made you move?"

"Phil travels a lot –he plays minor league baseball, so he's away all the time, and they just got married last year. I know my mom wanted to be with him, and she couldn't very well do that staying in Phoenix with me, so I came here to live with Charlie." She blushed inexplicably. "That's it."

"Oh," was my very inadequate response.

"Yep."

God, I was horrible at this.

My gaze wandered to the door. The way I saw it, was that I had two options.

Option one: I could politely excuse myself, and leave, for the sake of saving this sad excuse of an attempt at a conversation.

Or option two: I would stay, and endure it. Because I wanted Bella to like me. And I liked her. And I couldn't even begin to explain to myself why I liked her so much.

While option two was ludicrous and idiotic, for the most part, and option one was reasonable, and the safest pick, option two was far more tempting, and so I did stay. Right there. On the bed. Waiting for conversation to strike.

"Do you see a lot of movies?" Bella asked, suddenly, her question stilted, but substantial. "I mean, because you work at a movie theater, and all."

Halle–fucking-lujah. I could have kissed her. I tried not to think about how literally I meant that thought. "Sure. I guess. But not so much at the theater. A lot of my coworkers are movie buffs, and they think it's their duty to educate me on decent cinema."

"Do you have a favorite movie?" she asked, no awkwardness, just earnest interest.

"I don't think so. I like a lot of movies," I told her.

"But if you absolutely had to choose…?"

"Then I would say _Donnie Darko._" I cocked my head, curiously. "So, what's _you're _favorite movie?"

She thought on that for a while, a crease forming in her brow as she contemplated her answer. "I think _Romeo And Juliet. _The one with Leonardo DiCaprio. "

I filed this piece of vital information away to ruminate on some other time. I carefully chose my next question, in order for her to uncover more of herself, however superficial the trivia may be. "Do you like the actual play too?"

She smiled, the kind of apologetic smile a child smiles when she's caught doing something she's been told not to. "Very much. The classics are my guilty pleasure, I suppose you could say."

"Your _guilty pleasure_?" I repeated. "Aren't most people's guilty pleasures more… I don't know, frivolous -things like Harlequin Romances and bon-bons?"

She laughed. "I'm not most people."

"You really aren't," I agreed, gravely.

Her blush returned, but she otherwise ignored my consent. "So, what is _your _guilty pleasure, then, Edward?"

I was fascinated by the way her tongue and teeth hugged the 'd' and how her lips swallowed the 'w' in my name, and I very nearly answered, _Why, you, Bella Swan, are _my _guilty pleasure. _"I don't know," I said, instead, lamely.

"Oh, come on. Everyone has a guilty pleasure," she encouraged. I tried to read this new smile I hadn't seen on her shy face before, or the glint that reflected daringly in her usually solemn eyes. It made me feel uncomfortable not only because I didn't understand it, but also because I felt stirrings tremble and shake inside me, reminiscent of old feelings. And I couldn't decide if they felt the same, or were merely similar.

My neck felt hot and I felt a blush rise up my face. This was utter insanity. Firstly because I hadn't known I was this prone to blushing. Secondly, I had at one point considered myself a master at flirtation. I was _notorious _for it. Do you know how much work it takes to be notorious at something? And yet, here I was _blushing. For Christ's sake, man up, will you? _A voice urged me.

I swallowed –literally- my nerves, and smiled, a heavy lidded, half smile, and said, "Tell me then, how would you define 'guilty pleasure'?" _Not bad. Not bad, at all. _

Bella's sudden confidence wavered, and disappeared, as her face flushed, crimson. "Uh, I guess something that you enjoy that you wouldn't want other people to know that you –well, you enjoy."

I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling of Rosalie's room as I thought on it. "My guilty pleasure would be," I began slowly, and paused. What _was _my guilty pleasure? I could have just offered up another weak half-truth, but I wanted to be honest. And that was frightening. "Lying," I finally said.

Bella was silent. I tilted my head back down, to assess her expression. She was watching me. She looked like she was trying to figure out a very difficult equation. "That's a very interesting guilty pleasure," she told me, soberly.

"Thank you," I said, though it didn't necessarily sound like a compliment.

Bella twisted around suddenly and asked Alice what time it was. "Four-thirty. Why?"

Bella jumped up from the bed, and I sat up all the way slowly. "I have to go!" she said hurriedly. "I didn't mean to stay this late. I'm sorry, I have to go." She waved at Alice and threw a tight-lipped smile in my direction. She left the room, and closed the door behind her.

I stared at the place where she had left for a long moment, before I was on my feet, and walking after her, with out putting a single thought to it. I heard Emmett yell after me, but I ignored it.

I found Bella sitting in the red Chevy. _So, it's _her _car, _I thought to myself. _Typical. _

The truck rumbled, and wheezed, and then coughed and sputtered, then cut off, with a raspy screech. Bella twisted the key in the ignition again, only to get the same result. She slumped in her seat, and banged her head against the steering wheel.

I crossed the narrow street, and wrapped on her window with my fist, not all that sure of what I was even doing. She jumped, and a hand flew to her chest. Her shoulders relaxed with relief, though, when she saw it was me, and cranked down her window. "Can I help you?" she asked, more formally than I would have liked.

"Shouldn't _I _be the one asking that?" I countered. "You're the one whose car sounds like it's about to kick to bucket."

"_Can _you help me?" she asked, sincerely. "I don't know the first thing about cars."

I should have just stuck to the truth and said I knew about as much as her when it came to cars, but instead the words, "Sure, I'll take a look," came out of my mouth, with out my consent. I walked around to the front of the massive fender, and lifted the hefty hood, and a shower of rust-flakes fell like red snow to my feet. I stared at the engine for a long time. I worried that it didn't look like I knew what I was looking at, so I bent over the blackened coils of pipes and cylinders. I gingerly, touched a thin chord, that ran along the farthest end of the engine, and then moved my fingers to brush a pipe, then rested both hands on the edge of the opening. I closed the hood with a sound slam, and shrugged to Bella.

She got out of her truck and stood next to me. She stood, so her hip rolled out, and one feminine hand rested on it. "Did you see anything… I don't know –wrong?"

"I can't be sure, just from the surface, but you could just need a new battery, or an oil change," I told her. I wondered if she could tell I was only trying to impress her –if I _did _sound like, if I had the right equipment I could help her. Alas, my vast repertoire of vehicular knowledge would have to be saved for another day.

She rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand and sighed. "I'll call triple-A," she said, resigned.

Bella went back into her truck and I stood by the front fender, unsure of what to do. I tried to suppress to bizarre _want _for Bella to stay with me. It wasn't that it was foreign, and strange, or that Bella stole my tongue and my train of thought –no, it was that it felt so familiar. I knew this feeling like I had never stopped feeling it. It was that I knew that I was only at the tip of the iceberg. It was that I wasn't ready for it. It was that I didn't want it. It was that I also wanted it with a desperation verging on carnal.

Bella came out of her truck. "The guy said he could get here in ten minutes, thankfully," she alerted me.

I noticed, a fraction of a second too late that my expression was off, due to my disquiet over the complications Bella presented. She noticed this, however before I did, and asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I answered too stiffly. I tried to smile, to make her think I was okay, but my lips caught on my teeth, so it came out as more of a grimace.

She frowned up at me and said skeptically, "You look a little pale."

"So do you."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," she griped sarcastically.

I laughed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," I apologized.

"I'll bet," she muttered. She crossed her arms tightly and shuddered. "Man, it is _cold._"

"Is it?" I said vaguely. I hadn't actually noticed, which was strange, because once Bella brought it to light, it did feel pretty cold. Strange, but there you have it. Then an idea sprung to me, so brilliant and simple that I said it sans trepidation: "Do you want to sit in my car? I could turn on the heater."

"I would love to," she said with a relieved smile.

I smiled back.

Bella and I sat in my car for at least twenty minutes before the triple-A mechanic got there. It began to rain in the mean time. I idly asked Bella if she liked the rain. She told me she hated the rain "with the fiery passion of a thousand suns." She told me she thrived in the dead heat of the southwest. I asked her if she missed Arizona very much, and she said she did. I soaked in the information, basked in its glow.

When he got there, the mechanic threw a bunch of technical jargon at Bella then said the truck would have to be taken to a shop, because it he couldn't have it fixed with his meager amount of tools. I recommended to Bella a shop in Port Angeles, and found the number in the glove compartment of my car.

It wasn't until Bella's behemoth of an automobile was towed away that I realized I was Bella's ride. Huh. How about that? I walked over to my car, and opened the passenger door for her. Bella, however, didn't seem to have caught on to this, because she continued to stand in the middle of the road, staring at where the tow truck had taken a bend in the road, and vanished from sight.

"Bella?" I called to her.

She jumped a little, startled and said, "Yeah?"

"Do you want a ride?"

She looked like she was about to refuse for a moment, and I wondered how else she would get home. Apparently, though, she came to the same conclusion because all she said was, "Please," and took a seat in my car.

"You have a very nice car," she said, as she pulled the seat belt across her.

"Thank you," I said, a little uneasily. I purposefully busied myself with adjusting the volume on the stereo, and the heater.

Once we were on the road, driving into town, Bella exhaled, or sighed –I couldn't really tell what it was. "Isn't this just perfect?" she muttered, glaring up at the roiling storm clouds out her window.

"What?" I said, thickly, confused.

She turned to look at me, and smiled wryly. "The only reason I left anyway was because I have to go to the grocery store, and I can't even do that now." She sighed a distinct sigh then and muttered, "Crummy truck."

Another completely idiotic idea struck me, but it spread like a cancer, and I turned off the one-oh-one north, onto S Forks Avenue, rather than keep going straight, as I probably should have. Bella swiveled in her seat, and started to say, "Where are you…" but she trailed off, and turned sharply to give me an indignant glare. "No. Turn around."

The corners of my mouth twitched, but I pressed back the amusement. "Why?"

"_Because. _Turn around." She twisted in her seat again, as if that were enough to make me do as she bid.

I pulled into the parking lot to _Thrift Way _and parked close to the entryway –completely disregarding her demands. "Might as well go in, since we're already here," I said, brightly. I beamed at Bella's sour expression, as she pushed open her door.

I couldn't understand at all why I was finding her discontent so entertaining and why I felt so giddy. I should have just stopped questioning things like that. Logic is so futile at times.

Bella had marched ahead of me, under the shelter of the wide metal awning, to get a cart. I followed after her.

I ghosted her through the produce section, feeling useless. I felt like I should have at least talked to her, even more helped her.

"Is there anything you want me to get?" I asked after some time, picking up a red apple, and studying the perfect circle of a bruise on its side. Bella held up a McIntosh and checked it for marks, herself, and put it in a clear plastic bag along with two others she'd placed in it.

"You don't have to help," she said brusquely. Her expression was troubled. She stared through, more than_ at_, a careful pyramid of oranges. She took her fingers from the handle on the cart, and flexed them, at her sides, before finally approaching the structure of fruit. Her hand hovered delicately above an orange in the center, before plucking it from its place. Promptly causing the entire thing to collapse in a waterfall of oranges.

I whistled lowly. "Jesus."

"Yeah," she said, irately.

Tom Baker –resident pothead of my English class. I mean, his last name was _Baker, _for Christ's sake- came over giving me a heavy-lidded expression of resentment. "I do not even want to know."

Bella's face turned pink with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry."

Tom took no note of Bella's apology. He brushed passed her, and into a closet next to the display of cabbage heads.

Bella shook her head at herself, and murmured something that sounded relative to "Ridiculous."

"That was incredible," I said to Bella. She kept walking, toward the opposite end of the store.

She snorted, a sardonic sound. "Not really."

I raised my eyebrows, dubiously. "It wasn't?"

"No." She came to a halt, and turned to face me. "I'm what you might call accident prone," she explained.

I studied her tired expression –an expression that could only indicate that she had seen many of these episodes of clumsiness. "You don't seem _that _accident prone," I tried to assure her.

She cocked an eyebrow. "You've only known me for two days, Edward." She turned back around, when all I did was watch her blankly, and kept walking, her eyes scanning the aisles. "I'm just saying. Besides the fact that you just saw me, quite effortlessly, knock down that stack of oranges."

I went after her, after a frozen moment of lost composure. The subdued bitterness on her words disquieted me –made me feel stupid, ignorant, naïve. I put on my fake face of assertion and said, "I've seen worse."

"Now _that _is a load of BS," she scoffed with out looking at me. She picked up a box of Frosted Mini-Wheat's, and set it in her cart.

"It really isn't," I promised. "One time when I was over at Jazz's house, his mom had us go to the store to get some eggs and milk, and we were walking by this huge stack of soup cans, that was right across from another stack of cereal boxes and I was saying how he should ask Alice out because it was so obvious that he liked her –it was before they started dating- and I think Jazz said something about –" I froze, for a split second, because he said something about _her, _about _Tanya_, so I edited; "-a girl I'd met at a party, so I sort of shoved him, then he shoved me, back, but we both fell, and knocked over both of the stacks. It was pretty bad."

Bella slowly pivoted on her heels and gave me a bewildered expression -not one of laughter, or comfort, as I'd hoped to extract.

"What?" I said, at length, self-consciously.

She shook her head, as if ridding it of an unwelcome thought. "Nothing. You –Well, you just don't seem the type to… get yourself in that kind of situation, I guess. " She inspected her shoes as she added, "You seem too agile for that kind of thing." She glanced back up at me, cheeks retaining their familiar red glow.

"Agile?" I repeated, dazed by the praise. "I'm flattered."

She mashed her lips together, and turned so she was facing forward, and kept walking. "'Welcome," I heard her murmur.

I heaved a sigh, and went after her again. "Why do you say that?" I prodded. "Agile, I mean."

"I don't know," Bella grit out, from what sounded like, between set teeth. "You just are. Like a… like an athlete, or something." She picked up a package of paper towels, checked the price, and traded it for another package whose price better satisfied her, because she set that one in the cart.

"Oh," I said. I wasn't really sure anyway how to respond to that adequately so I just remained silent.

Bella came to the beverage aisle and said absently, seemingly apropos of nothing, "What's your favorite drink with breakfast?"

I blinked. "Um. Milk?"

"Hmm," she hummed. She ran a slender finger around her thick, pursed, lips, ponderously. I couldn't look away from her lips as she continued to say, "One percent, two percent, or skim?"

"Skim," I answered, seriously. "Definitely skim."

She nodded to herself, and picked out a carton and put it in her cart, which I realized just then, was very full. She pushed her cart to the front. Mrs. Cheney waved Bella and I over to register. Mrs. Cheney smiled to me, and made small talk and asked Bella about how she was liking Forks thus far. Bella answered politely, but wearily.

Outside, it had continued to rain, relentlessly, pelting the asphalt, with a spray of fat beads of water. By the time we got to my car, we were both completely soaked through. I insisted Bella sit in my car, while I loaded the groceries –a strange desire to protect her came over me then, even over something as minor as standing under a downpour. She looked more delicate than usual, with her hair hanging flat and limp against her head, with a wan sheen of dampness clinging to her fair skin.

Bella gave me directions to her house, though I knew the way there –her dad _was _the one and only police chief of Forks. She was quiet through out the rest of the drive there. I got out of the car once we arrived at her house, against her protests, to help her bring her groceries in. She stopped me at the porch, and instructed I drop the bags there. "Thank you for all of that," she said over my arguments. "Really, I appreciated it, a lot."

"No worries. I'll figure out a way for you to repay me, one day."

She rolled her eyes at me. "I'll be looking forward to that day."

"I know _I _am." I looked up at her house as I said this. I'd been here many times, since my parents were friends with the chief, and all. It was strange to see it in this new light –that this was a piece of Bella.

Bella had opened the front door, and I caught a glimpse of the dark hallway behind her. "See you around, Bella," I said, liking the way her name felt in my mouth.

"Bye, Edward," Bella returned.

I ducked back into the rain, and into the sanctuary of my car. As I drove down the street, my eyes flickered up to the rear-view mirror, compulsively, to see Bella bend to pick up the grocery bags, and, just before she went inside, shift the bags on arm, so she could lift her hand into a wave.

_A/N: MAN. That was long. It needed to end here. Otherwise it just would have gotten out of hand. And, yes, that _was _Sam Uley. Heheh._

_I have several things to address: Firstly, Thank you so so much for all the reviews, story/author alerts, and favorites! I was amazed at how many I got. I'm just going to request –not demand- that we aim for 20 reviews? A least try? There are more than twice that many people who have this on story alert. I have to think of a prize if I get 20 though... IDEK. I'm too tired. Just tell me what you want. I'll figure it out._

_Secondly: If anyone would like to stay updated on my fanfiction, I created an LJ just for that called a silverparadox. Feel free to friend. _

_Lastly: Please, please vote on the poll in my profile!_

_And, as always, review, darlings :D_


	5. Part 1

**Our Swords Part 1**

**Edward**

Earlier that day Coach Clapp had approached me on my way to English. Ben had been ranting about his PS2 dying on him when he was about to beat Halo (for the umpteenth time), and I wasn't really paying attention. Coach Clapp, rested a heavy hand on my shoulder, and I turned to face him. He was short, and compact, and always wore sunglasses and a baseball cap. "Hey, Coach," I said, confused.

"Masen," he greeted. "Track tryouts will be coming up." He handed me a packet of registration forms. "I'll be seeing you there." An order, not an invitation.

I looked down at the papers. "Uh. Okay."

I had filled out all of the forms –most of which I thought were gratuitous- except for lines that called for a parent signature. I went down stairs and found mom on the couch in the living room, a book open on her lap.

"Hey, mom?"

She looked up, and pushed her reading classes on top her head. "Yes?"

"Could you sign these? They're for track tryouts." I handed her the papers, and she took them, and pulled off her reading glasses.

Instead of looking at the applications, she set them on the coffee table and closed her book, with out marking it. She patted the spot next to her on the couch. "I want to talk to you, Eddie."

I felt instantly wary. The use of my much-despised pet name was usually used in situations when she wanted to soften me up for serious conversations. Not a particularly good sign. "Okay," I agreed, reluctantly. I took a seat next to her, and waited, in uneasy silence, before she spoke.

"I don't think you should be doing track this year, Edward," she admitted finally. Her expression was very serious. The kind of serious that makes a person feel like a small child under it, regardless of age.

I stared back at her, trying to steel myself. "Why?" I asked, flatly.

She took a deep breath, and put a hand on my shoulder and rubbed it, circularly, an offering of comfort. I had the urge to shake it off, but I left it there. "You've gone through a lot on the last year, and I certainly am in awe at how well you've handled it all, but you still need some time," she said, with only the amount of sympathy a mother could convey.

I blinked, slowly, and took in a deep breath of air. Soothing air. That was the intention of the gesture, anyway. "I disagree," I said, civilly.

She nodded. "I'm sure you do."

"I'm fine," I pressed. "I can do track. I don't see what any of that has to do with it, in the first place."

She put a hand on my cheek, and her expression was too close to pity. "Listen, kiddo, you still have insomnia, and so far we haven't found a very successful medicine. You haven't been doing so well on your own, either. I just don't see you having the energy to hold up your job, finish your homework, maintain a social life, and do track, when you are running on nothing."

I didn't answer, I just continued to stare back at her. I didn't really have an argument to that, because it was true. But I really _wanted _–desperately wanted- to do track. I felt confident. Good. Whole. All those positive adjectives. While doing track, that is. Sort of. The rightness of her words, seemed to dampen my passion suddenly, as the idea settled in my brain.

She sighed, and took her hand away from my face. "I didn't want to say this, Edward. But I strongly believe that doing track would not be beneficial for you this year. I'm sorry."

I tore my eyes from her, their stare falling on her book –_The Da Vinci Code_- and then the registration forms. "So, no signatures."

She shook her head. "Sorry."

I didn't acknowledge the apology; I simply rose from my seat, and picked up the forms, as I left the room.

I could very well forge my parents' signatures –I'd learned to do it in middle school, but then, I just didn't. There was no explanation for it, other than surprising disinterest, and a small fraction of agreement and acknowledgement for what mom had said. I didn't really want to agree with her either, but there you have it.

I kind of felt tired just thinking about it all.

For the next hour, I just laid in bed, fantasizing about sleep. That was at first. But then Bella crept into my thoughts. It was inevitable, really, and I should have been less surprised by it, but it seemed like it was just one of those days. That kind of surprise!-you're-obsessed-with-a-girl-you've-known-for-two-days kind of days. You know those? No? Figures.

I felt like was completely jumping the gun, here, emotionally. How was it possible to grow such an intense liking of a person so quickly? Was that really possible? Didn't that break some law of physics or gravity?

I honestly, truly, felt a strong hatred for this feeling. I was content with the numbness of my usual emotional scale. I lived in areas of blacks and grays. Colors that were mild, comforting, familiar. I wasn't used to this burst of blinding white. I felt myself simmering down to a nice grey, but there was still a faint, brilliant film over it, like after the flash of a camera.

An idea occurred to me then and the idea was masochism, for lack of better word, but it served a good purpose.

I wanted to remember Tanya. Not the event that had put me here –God knows where I'd be otherwise- but before all that.

I remembered that I'd met her at a party. I broke it off with this girl Camilla Tigg, and I was really just looking to fuck. Not gonna lie. I had been looking through the jostling bodies of people, rubbing up on each other, to the point of dry humping, when I saw her standing off to the side, flanked by two other girls. Also dead gorgeous. I had it planned out in my head; I would just go for one of her friends –they were less intimidating (still ridiculously intimidating, but still) and I wasn't looking for a girlfriend anyway.

I'd had two cup-fulls of cheap beer, which tasted pretty nasty, but it gave me a pleasant buzz, and a very convincing pretense of confidence.

Then I just remember standing in front of them –not even pushing my way through the crowd, or banging my knee on an unseen coffee table and cussing so loudly a group of girls standing nearby had jumped and screamed (as Tanya had often laughingly reiterated it)- but I remember standing in front of them, a realizing I had no line, so I just stood there. One of the many problems of thinking with the wrong head.

And I remembered Tanya, very blatantly ran her eyes, down, then up the length of me, and smiled a Cheshire cat smile that I would grow to be very familiar with, in the months to come. "Can I help you?" she said, obviously flirting.

I said some words to her, something funny, because she laughed. Her friends left, for some reason or another, and Tanya informed me that she wasn't from Forks, completely apropos of nothing.

"Oh," I said, mildly. "Where then?"

"Portland. But my dad lives near Port Angeles," she explained, bored, as if I weren't keeping up.

"Oh," I said again. "Cool."

"I'm a junior," she told me.

I nodded. That didn't surprise me. "I'm a sophomore."

She tilted her head to the side, and twisted the ends of her long strawberry blonde hair, thoughtfully. "I don't date underclassmen."

I grinned at her. "Neither do I."

She laughed, too loudly. Some people stared at her. But I liked that she laughed such a loud, ugly laugh, that she didn't hide it. That she didn't care. "Was that a pick up line?"

I shrugged. "Did it work?"

She was serious suddenly, and watched me carefully, for a few moments. "I guess so."

Then the whole thing blurred over some parts between finding an empty room, and walking there. Tanya had a photographic memory. I used to ask her to fill in the blanks for that night, because I saw that night as something so monumental, so pivotal, in my life. She told me that I was just blathering on about some nonsense. She told me, she wasn't paying attention to what I was saying. She was just glad that I was taller than her.

When we found the room, Tanya wasted no time. Her mouth was immediately on mine, and God, I remember how articulate and how perfect, and how immaculate she kissed me. It felt entirely impersonal. And I loved it. It was about the time I had already taken off her shirt, and her bra, and was working my way down to the black thong, that was peeping out over the top edge of her jeans, when she halted me.

"We're not going to fuck," she told me. "I should tell you now."

"We're not?" I said, against the skin of her smooth stomach.

"No."

"Why not, though?" I lifted myself up, and crawled up, so my face hovered just over hers.

"Are you a virgin?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No," I lied.

"You're lying."

"Am not."

She smirked. "I'm not going to ruin your first fuck. End of story."

"Ruin?" I said. "I'm not a virgin."

She sighed, and tilted her head back. "Whatever. I'm still not doing it with you. I don't even know your name."

"Edward," I said. I kissed her neck. "Problem solved."

"And you don't even know mine."

"Tell me," I suggested. I kissed her neck again, then kissed her on her wide, thick lipped, mouth. Her beer breath mixed with mine, and her lips tasted like peppermint.

When I pulled away, she sighed. "You're missing the point."

"I beg to differ."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really."

I grinned at her. "I think _you _are the one missing the point." I kissed her shoulder.

She snorted, an oddly eloquent sound, coming from her. "I think we should stop," she told me. I detected the trace of amusement in her voice, though.

"I disagree."

"Of course you do."

There was some moment of conversation here where I tried to persuade Tanya that we should go ahead and do it –we might as well- while she remained adamant that it wasn't going to happen. The exact words didn't come to me. I think we stayed in that room a while longer, but then Tanya's phone rang, and she told me she had to go.

"What's your name?" I asked her, as she fumbled with the clasp on her bra. I reached over, and covered her long fingers with my own, and helped her fit it into place.

She glanced over her shoulder, in my direction, but with out looking at me. "Why?"

I balked. "What do you mean, 'why'?"

She smiled, but didn't answer. She just continued to pull her shirt back on. With out much warning she took my hand in hers so my palm was facing up. She took a pen from the back pocket of her jeans and scribbled something on it.

I looked at the number she had written there. Her handwriting was blunt and neat, more masculine than feminine. She curled my fingers around it. "This doesn't really answer my question," I told her, though excitement prickled in my insides.

Something gleamed devilish in her eyes and she said, "It wasn't supposed to."

She left the room after that, and after a few moments of being stunned by her smooth exit –I mean, really, who gets exits like that?- I left too.

The rest of the night was pointless, because though I searched for her at the party, my efforts were in vain. She was long gone.

It hurt resurfacing from that memory. There had been so much potential. So many things had yet to happen. And so many things could have been done differently. Maybe if I hadn't made it obvious that I want to lay her, things would be different. Maybe if I hadn't just followed her to that room things would be different. Or maybe I should have just never have gone up to her in the first place.

An ache tightened my throat and the throb spread to my chest and shoulders. _This _was why I couldn't allow myself to even think of Bella. Because, while I still harbored feelings for Tanya, I couldn't do this. Not only that but the most powerful and stomach wrenching sense of guilt came over me, like I'd just killed a man. I felt like I was betraying Tanya. _There's no one here to betray, _a small voice reasoned with naïve sincerity.

And it was true. But the notion, the feeling, wasn't voluntary. Not in the least. It was a constantly recurring reflex. A hideous reminder that I was irreversibly damaged, beyond repair.

Yet, I couldn't begin to fathom forgetting Tanya, and just letting her go. The thought was near agony and there was no reason to it. People got passed these kinds of things. They got over it. And I felt like I should, but more than that, I was afraid to.

Suddenly the door banged open, and I sat bolt upright, and Emmett and Jasper walked into the room.

"Thanks for knocking," I said.

"Any time," Emmett said absently. He took a long pull on a red straw protruding from a mammoth cup displaying the word "ICEE" in red and blue. He came over to where I sat in my bed, and looked down at me.

"What?" I said, self-consciously.

"Nothing," he said elusively. "So," he began, significantly, but didn't elaborate. He was staring at me like I was supposed to know what the hell he was talking about.

I raised my eyebrows. "So… what?" I said back, confused.

"I think you _know _what."

"You'd be surprised."

He sighed, a patronizing sound. "It's Bella," he said. "Spare me from your denial. I _saw_ with my own two eyes, you, walk straight over to her, _and _then leave when she left. I _saw_ that. And Jazz, Alice, Rose, Karen, Ash, and Liv can all vouch for me."

Jasper nodded in silent agreement at Emmett's side, and then said, "Can I have something to drink? Em was being an asshole and wouldn't get me an Icee."

I ignored Jasper and spoke directly to Emmett's defiant smirk. "And?" I challenged him. "What of it?"

Emmett burst into a sort of sarcastic, frustrated laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."

I didn't say anything. I lay back down in my bed, and sighed very quietly to myself.

"I'm getting a drink," Jasper announced.

"Why didn't you want to tell us?" Emmett demanded to know.

I kept my eyes on the ceiling above my face and said, "There was nothing to tell."

"Only, that's bullshit," Jasper said.

"I thought you were getting a drink."

"I am telling you," Jasper continued, as if I had said nothing. "This is monumental. And what do you do?"

"Jasper," I said.

"Blow us off!" he went on. "Typical coming from you, isn't it?"

"Jasper?" I sat up.

"You know what? We've been friends with you, for only your entire life. You'd think by now you'd disclo-"

"Jasper!"

He stopped, and looked at me. "What?"

My eyes flickered between the two of them, their impatient stances and expressions. "Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea why you guys are making such a big deal out of this."

"I haven't got time for this," Jasper muttered as he left the room. I heard him shout from down the hallway, "I haven't got _time_!"

Emmett shook his head. "Damn."

"What's his problem?"

Emmett took a seat at my desk and told me, "You can be such a useless fuck, sometimes, you know that?"

"I know, really."

He snorted. "I'm serious, Ed." He sucked on the straw from his drink, and frowned, thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to have to have the talk with you," he finally said.

"The bro-mance talk?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Can't this wait? Or just not happen?"

"Nope. Has to happen."

I lay back down. "Okay. You can start."

He took in a big lungful of air, and exhaled it, slowly. "Okay," he said. "Here goes. Ed?"

"Yes?" I answered, warily.

"I think you forget sometimes," Emmett began, a sort of stiltedness to his words, "that –Jazz and me, and everyone, pretty much– is one your side, here."

"Okay," I said uncertainly. "I think."

"What I'm saying is, you don't need to be all to yourself, and not tell us stuff like this. Jazz is right; this is a hugely monumental thing, and I'm pretty sure you know it too."

"It's not," I disagreed.

Emmett groaned. "Please just… don't."

"Don't what?"

"Deny the obvious."

"Explain something to me, Emmett: what makes this monumental?" I said, changing the direction Emmett seemed to be taking the conversation.

He groaned again. "_Because, _dipshit."

"Okay, wow, thanks for clearing _that _up."

Emmett rubbed a wide hand across his eyes. "_Because … _figure it out for yourself."

"Pardon my French, but that is le bullshit."

"If you're going to be a smart ass, I won't explain this at all, okay?"

I turned my head to the side to face him, fully. "But, you see, Em, you aren't explaining this at all, in the first place. So I fully intend to be a smart ass, until you get to the explaining part."

Emmett's eyes tightened. "God, you are so fucking annoying, Ed. Why do I let you hang out with us?"

"More importantly," I said. "Why do you insist on harassing me? Finding the answer to this, I think, would dissipate your annoyance entirely, and mine as well."

Emmett didn't say anything; he just held his head in his hands for a while. "Why," was what he finally said.

"Because," I replied, cheerily. "That's what friends are for."

Emmett sighed.

Jasper came back in the room, with a cookie in one hand, and a glass of milk in the other. "Are you making any progress?" he asked Emmett.

"Does it look like it?"

"Not really."

Jasper took a bite of his cookie, and I heard a soft thump from Emmett's direction.

"You shouldn't bang your head on the desk, Em. If you get a bruise in the middle of your forehead, Rose'll crucify you," Jasper said.

"Why don't you people just leave me alone?" I said. "I think it would save us from a whole lot of headache."

"No kidding," Emmett muttered, his voice sounded muffled, as if his face were pressed against my desk top. Some how, that seemed highly likely.

The room was silent for a long minute. Jasper finally broke it, by saying, "Well, I have an English paper, that's due tomorrow."

"_This _was productive," Emmett observed, sarcastically.

"I thought so too," I said, though I was really agreeing with the verbal irony, rather than the literal words.

Emmett stood up, and gave me a determined glare. "You _will _stop being so unbelievably obnoxious. Or else."

I rolled my eyes. "Or else, what?"

He smiled. "Or else I will seriously kick your skinny ass into next week."

I nodded to myself. "I'll keep that in mind."

Emmett nodded back, then left the room with Jasper. I listened for the front door to close before getting up.

I got up after that. I did my Spanish and trig homework, and started my English homework, before the boredom got to me, and I went downstairs.

My mom was in the kitchen, when she called me in. "Where are you going?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I was thinking of going running," I told her. "Why?"

"Because," she said, taking a pot, from a cupboard. "I need you to help me make dinner –I'm going to the store to get some more milk and eggs."

"I can't cook."

She pulled out a long blue box, from another cupboard, and took a jar of tomato sauce from the fridge, and checked the expiration date, before setting it next to the other supplies. She continued to go about the kitchen, with a practiced eye, taking out more products and utensils. "Sure, you can cook," she said, brightly. She put her hands on her hips, and looked around. "I think that's all you'll need."

She left the kitchen, and I scanned the various culinary products. "Hey, mom!" I called.

She stuck her had in the doorway. "What?"

"What am I making?"

"Edward," she sighed, "did you even look at the ingredients?"

"Not really, no."

Her head disappeared from the doorframe, and called from down the hallway, just before the door slammed shut, "Call me when house catches fire."

"Right." I picked up the long blue box. _Romano's _in white script, with a yellow flourish underlining it. In black it read _spaghetti. _"Would that have been so difficult to tell me?" I said to myself.

Making spaghetti wasn't as much of a challenge as I'd anticipated. There had been some technical difficulties, like the confusion of putting the tomato sauce in with the strands of raw pasta in the boiling water, which gave the noodles a strange orangey-red hue and it was a bit too watery, but whatever. Not the worst thing in the world.

Mom got home just as I finished scooping the spaghetti onto a big white plate. She put her grocery bags on the counter, and inspected my handiwork. She took the plate from me, and lifted a scarlet thread -which hung, oddly stiff, and, stuck to another piece- between a careful thumb and forefinger. She dropped it in her mouth and chewed with a thoughtful expression. "How long did you cook this for?" she asked finally. "Thirty seconds?"

"Roughly."

She shook her head. "The sad thing is, I can't tell if you're joking or serious."

I nodded. "I like to keep it a mystery. I think it makes conversation more interesting."

She gave me an odd look. "Go do your homework."

"Okay," I agreed. But, as I began to leave the room she called me back.

"I forgot to mention this to you –I saw Chief Swan at the bank and he mentioned to me, that Bella's car broke down, and you gave her a ride."

I raised my eyebrows. I wasn't really sure where she was going with this, but I had a faint idea, and it was not appealing. Well, it kind of was. But ultimately? No. Definitely not. "I did," I confirmed, slowly.

She nodded. "That was very polite of you." She was stalling again, as she scooped the entire bowl I'd made of spaghetti back into the pot of water, on the stove.

"And?"

She raised an eyebrow at my tone. "And I think you should give her a ring to inform her you'll be her chauffer until her car is repaired. "

I paled. It was a tempting idea, in some ways –an excuse to spend more time with her and in others a bad idea –more opportunities to humiliate myself. It had bad idea written all over it. But what could I say, really? Just flat out 'no'? I didn't exactly want to do that either.

My mom turned to face me. "What are you waiting around for? Call her, will you?"

"Yes. Right. That." I went to retrieve the phone from the living room. Living in Forks, you pretty much know all the important numbers, by heart, because you're always friends with the important people too. Like, the Chief. My parents had been friends with him, pretty much, since we moved here. So, I knew his number, by heart, like most other numbers of Forks. It was weird doing it now, though, because I was not calling to ask Charlie, on behalf of my dad if he could borrow Charlie's nine-iron, or for my mom, to see if he was still coming over for dinner. No, this time I was calling on my own behalf, to talk to _Bella. _

God save me.

It was like ripping off a band-aide. Just get it over with. I dialed the number, and instantly regretted it. With each ring, I hoped I'd get the message machine. Luck was not with me that day, however, and suddenly, with a click, I heard the phone pick up on the other end. "Alice," she sighed, "there's nothing else to say, okay? So, just-"

"Bella?" I said, nervously.

She backtracked sharply. "Oh! Edward! Sorry, I –well, hi," she finished, flustered.

I took a breath, and the plunge, and finally said, "I have something I called to ask you…"

_A/N: __This AN is very __**IMPORTANT. **_

_**1) MY HIATUS: **__I will be on a hiatus for the entire month of November, and I'd hoped to have entirely finish this chapter, before November, but that didn't happen, so I felt I should at least give you part one. I'm doing the NaNoWriMo, so, that's just my explanation for this. Yeah._

_2) __**THE PLAYLIST: **__For starters, the first song on the playlist, is not listed in the chapter titles, because it's more of a beginning credits-title song, you know? It doesn't have as much significance as it should, b/c I mainly decided to put it there, because it just sounds good. I shouldn't have done that, but, well, I did. ALSO. Don't complain if you don't like the music. Don't listen to it. That's the solution if it isn't what you wanted. _

_THE LINK: http : / / view (dot) playlist (dot) com / 12842915339. Hopefully you know how to arrange that to get the playlist. If not, PM me :D _

_Please keep up with the great reviews! I'll get the next chapter to you ASAP … after the NaNoWriMo, that is…_

_SORRY FOR THE LONG ASSERY OF THIS A/N :x_


	6. Part 2

**Chapter 6: Our Swords Part Two**

**Bella**

The shrill ring of the phone was what startled me out of the droll of putting groceries away. I was sure it must have been Charlie calling, so I answered, "Hey, dad."

"It's me, Alice," Alice answered. Her voice was pitched low; as if she was worried someone was listening.

"Oh," I said, bemused. "How do you know my number?"

"Bella," Alice sighed. "_Everyone _knows your number."

"Oh," I said again, not quite sure what else to say to that.

"I know this is weird, and all, since we hardly know each other, but, well, for one –I like you, and for another…" she trailed off, awkwardly.

I waited for her to complete her thought, and when she didn't I prompted her by saying, "'For another'… what?"

I could here her sigh heavily. "All right –here's the thing –and I'm just asking, but, what's the story with you and Edward?"

The pause was too long. I didn't know why. Long pauses meant there was a story. And there was no story. And when I said, "There isn't one," it felt like a lie. Even though I knew very well it wasn't. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's just unusual, I guess. He's in your bio class, isn't he?" Alice said, suddenly flippant.

"What do you mean, 'unusual'?" I said, taken aback by her word choice.

"Edward doesn't date much –that's all. So, like I was saying –he's in your bio class?"

I frowned. "Alice, he's hardly even a friend. I don't even know him. And may I remind you, I've been here all of two days?"

She sighed again. "That hardly matters. If the chemistry is there, it's there."

"It's not." I blushed. _There is absolutely no reason for the way you are acting! _I berated myself. _You are a practical, sensible person! Blushing is not called for! _"You _do _realize how ridiculous this is, don't you? I mean, he's a nice guy, but I mean, really. _Chemistry_?"

"Huh," Alice said after a long pause. "Well, maybe it's just him, then. It was just so _odd _how he zeroed in on you, like that."

"I don't mean to be rude, but that's ridiculous to the highest degree," I said skeptically.

"Well, it's ridiculous in one sense, but you couldn't possibly know about that. Otherwise, I fail to see how it's 'ridiculous to the highest degree.'"

"He didn't zero in on me. He was just being nice." I paused for a moment, when something Alice had said clicked. "What do you mean that it's ridiculous in one sense and I couldn't know about that?"

I was only getting silence from her side, and for a moment I thought she had hung up. "Alice?" I said, tentatively.

"I shouldn't have said that," what all she said back, stiffly. "That wasn't for me to say."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, suddenly apologetic.

"You don't need to apologize," Alice said, more easily. "It's just –I shouldn't have even said anything. Look –you don't need to mention this conversation to Edward, okay? You don't need to tell him I said anything like that. He –just don't say anything about it, all right?"

"Yeah. Of course," I answered, quickly. "It's not like I was going to tell him about this conversation anyway."

Alice sighed, again, relieved, this time. "Thanks," she said, graciously. "Okay," she began, moving on, enthusiastically, "So tell me: where did you guys go? I saw your truck being towed, and Edward driving you away."

"No where of much excitement. He did take me to the grocery store –against my will- then home. And that was it. Honest."

Alice snorted. "Why on earth would he take you to the grocery store _against your will_?" She asked me, as if there were some intriguing reason as to why he would do such a thing. Though, I knew the reason, and there was certainly no intrigue involved.

I sighed. "Because I happened to mention that I was supposed to go to the grocery store, and … he decided to take me, I guess. I don't actually know why he would do that, but he did. That's it."

"How was he acting when he was around you?"

"Alice!"

"Calm down," Alice said. "I'll be grilling Edward when I get the chance to, too."

"Do you always assume there's something going on, when someone is nice to another person? Because I don't think that kind of paranoid behavior is very healthy, Alice," I said, with mock concern.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alice huffed. "I only assume something is going on, when there's something going on."

"I can't believe you said _I _was being ridiculous, and that something is going on between Edward and I, in the same sentence."

"I can't believe you're so delusional as to not see your own undying love for him."

"Okay, I'm hanging up now."

"I'm kidding!"

"Bye, Alice."

"Bella, really. Wait. We need to discuss this."

I hesitated before answering. "Why does this have to be discussed?"

She lowered her voice and said, "This conversation is between just you and me, right?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, slowly.

"So, I can be honest with you."

"Yeah."

"This is mostly about Edward. I'll have way worse luck with him, than you. He's more stubborn than it's worth."

"Okay," I said. I wasn't sure, suddenly, if I wanted to answer her questions. What if I said too much, with out even knowing? What if Edward found out? Though, I didn't know him, all that well, I didn't feel like I wanted to betray his trust, so quickly. Not, that we'd even had time yet to establish trust between us, much less friendship. "What do you want to know?"

"Was he –you know- arrogant? Like, with flirtatious one-liners, and all that?"

I frowned. "God, no."

"Huh. Interesting. So, what was he like, then?"

"I don't know. Quiet. Sort of fidgety."

Alice was quiet for another stretch of time, before concluding, "That's unusual for him."

"Is he normally arrogant, then, when he likes a girl?"

"Well, most guys are. But Edward _especially _is. I mean, I would find him incredibly attractive because of that, if it weren't for the fact that he's practically my brother. Arrogance is a surprising turn on –when used correctly, and that Edward does," Alice explained thoughtfully.

"Huh," I said. "So, I guess he doesn't like me then."

"I don't think that's necessarily true. It's just that it's weird. I can't explain it, right, but I _think _this is a good thing, for the future of your relationship with him."

I heaved a sigh that was nearly a growl. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last part. But, I don't really get what you're saying. From what you just told me, his behavior would indicate he doesn't like me."

"You're going to have to trust me, Bella, that he does like you, and I think a lot, too. But, if I tried to explain why I think that, I would be over-stepping certain boundaries."

"How can he like me 'a lot'? He doesn't even know me!" I said, exasperated.

"Like I said, if the chemistry is there-"

"That honestly, does not work in real life."

"I'm not saying he's in _love _with you. But, he likes you, and that is perfectly normal –surprise of all surprises."

"But it's not like-like. It's just like," I emphasized. "That's where you seem to be getting confused."

"Actually, I am positive that it's closer to like-like than like," Alice told me, in a patronizing tone.

I slapped a hand over my face. To be frank, I was annoyed. I knew she must just be teasing me, or must be the type who jumped to these kinds of conclusions when it came to everyone. Or, -_or- _she could be right, and I highly doubted that possibility. Alice could get her kicks out of it, while she was watching from the sidelines, but I didn't want to seriously entertain the idea. "I have to go," I said, to Alice. "I still have groceries to put away."

"But, Bella," she interjected, "I'm not done yet."

"We can talk about this… tomorrow," I conceded, while kicking myself, knowing that I would regret this promise. "It's just Charlie's going to be home soon, and I still have to make dinner, and I have homework to do too. I _promise _we can discuss your paranoid delusions some more tomorrow."

"They are _not _paranoid delusions. But, I am holding you to that."

"Fine, fine. It's not like there's anything to even say, anyway. You're wasting your time."

"That's what you think."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Alice," I said, and hung up the phone, before the interrogation could go any further than it had.

I had just taken a bag of apples out, and was placing them in a bowl on the counter, when the phone rang again. "Alice," I muttered, by means of an expletive. I stalked back over to the phone, and yanked it off its cradle and said, with force, "Alice, there's nothing else to say, okay? So, just-"

"Bella?" Edward interrupted me, mid-rant.

I quickly back peddled, horrified by what almost came out of my mouth. _Of all the people! _I internally wailed. I had been frighteningly close to finishing my sentence with _stop disillusioning yourself to your voyeuristic fantasy of me and Edward falling in love._ "Oh! Edward!" I said, my voice jumping up an octave, much to my embarrassment. "Sorry, I –well, hi," I finished, lamely.

I heard him take a deep breath –I thought to sigh, but next he said, "I have something I called to ask you." He stopped there, short, and I waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"What is it?" I asked, with more enthusiasm, than was entirely necessary.

"You know how your car is in the shop, and everything?" Edward said, his voice not quite as sure, as I'm sure he'd intended.

I blinked, and actually held the phone away from my ear, and looked at it. "No," I answered, sarcastically, unable to help myself. "When did that happen?"

"Ha," he said. "Funny."

"Sorry," I apologized, my face flaming. Had I really just tried to make a joke? And failed at it? My hand itched to slap my forehead, but I only held it in a white-knuckled fist at my side. "What about my car?"

He laughed, which I thought was a good sign, though it was belated. "So, you have no form of transportation, right?"

"Well, Charlie will probably be able to drive me." I cringed saying this. "Walking is also, always an option."

"Not in Forks, walking it isn't," Edward disagreed. "I hope you haven't already forgotten that it rains three-hundred-and-sixty-five days out of the year, here."

"I –I can handle it."

"Bella," he said, and I felt an odd trill at the way he said my name. "I like the rain, and I can't even handle walking in the rain all the time. You just told me –and I quote- that you 'hate the rain with the passion of a thousand suns'. Trust me –that is definitely not an option."

I frowned, confused by what his motives could be behind this peculiar phone call. "Why do you care?" I'd meant the question to sound less abrasive than it did.

"I don't," he said, quickly. "I mean, I do. But, well -Okay, I'm calling because, I was going to offer to drive you until your car was fixed." His words were rushed together, to the point, where it took me a good minute to realize what his offer was.

"Oh," I said, inadequately. _Holy jeez. _I wasn't quite sure whether to feel elated, or horrified, at the opportunity to be with Edward more. I mean, I had liked him, almost instantly, and the way Alice had talked about him made me extremely curious, but I wasn't quick to jump at the chance to humiliate myself (further) and endure (more) awkward conversations. "That's nice of you," I added then, also, quite lamely. "But Charlie can drive me." Not that I necessarily _wanted _Charlie to drive me. The mere thought of being driven to school –and everywhere, for that matter- in the cruiser was positively cringe inducing, as said before.

"Do you really want to get a ride from your dad?" Edward asked, as though he had read my thoughts. "Honestly, your house is on the way to school –it wouldn't be a problem at all."

Besides the fact that his proposition was awfully swaying -especially since I didn't want Charlie to drive me for a number of reasons, in the first place- the sincere desire to do me this favor persuaded me, above all else. I couldn't imagine why on earth he'd want to drive me to school, and maybe I should have spent more time trying to argue the matter, but I wasn't that strongly opposed. "Okay, I guess."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," he said, then, relieved, almost. "Bye."

"Bye," I said softly, before I heard the click of the line being disconnected.

It took a moment, but the panic suddenly caught up to me. What had I done? Was it a good thing? A bad thing? Had I imagined the warmth and sincerity in Edward's voice? For all I knew, his mom had probably told him he had to do this tedious task. And who knew how long I'd be stuck with him? Not to mention I would be over at his house after school, working on our biology project.

How did I manage to get myself into these kinds of situations? I should have been more adamant that Charlie could drive me.

I thumped my forehead against the doorjamb a few times, before returning to putting the groceries away.

oO0Oo

I spent the morning in a panic. This did nothing to help my argument against Alice, really, to be quite frank. Charlie had startled me, while I was thinking of the drive to school (more like panicking, about the ride to school), and so, I jumped, and splattered my shirt with milk and cereal. While I was changing into a clean shirt, and I was still trying to find the hole my head was supposed to go through, I heard the doorbell ring.

"Cr_ap_!" I hissed, and began to frantically claw at my shirt. _Where the crap is that hole! _

I could hear voices down stairs. Voice_**s**__. _That meant one thing, and that Edward was down there, talking to Charlie AND OH MY GOD I STILL DID NOT HAVE MY SHIRT ON YET. I could not rid myself of the suspicion that Edward was going to come up here, and barge into my room, demanding why I was taking so long, and find me hunched over, and wearing nothing on my top half but my 32 B over-worn almost-grey, almost-white bra, and a shirt on my head, at which I was trying to pull my head through the sleeve.

I finally ditched the shirt, for one that had an easier access head-hole, and ran downstairs –and nearly toppling down the stairs, while I was at it.

Edward was standing in the entryway, his back facing me, as I approached. Charlie was talking to him, and Edward was nodding absently, along with what he was saying. I didn't announce my entrance in any way, but Edward turned as I came closer. He smiled, oddly, easily. "Hey, Bella," he greeted.

I smiled back –not so easily. "Hey," I said back, as I stooped to retrieve my bag for school, which sat on the floor by the door. "I'm ready to go."

Charlie opened the door and nodded to Edward on his way out, and engaged me in this brief, awkward, one-armed hug. "See you later, Bells," he said.

Edward silently held the passenger door open for me –which I couldn't help but note mentally how strangely polite that was for someone Edward's age. After closing my door, he came around the other side, and sat in the driver's seat. The drive was pretty quiet. I couldn't help but feel disappointed by this. I hadn't necessarily expected us to have some in depth, philosophical debate, or anything, but conversation would have been nice. Too bad neither of us had the nerve to start it.

It could have been worse, though, because it gave me another chance to study his profile, while he drove, unaware of my speculation. If I had thought he looked tired yesterday, he looked like the living dead, today; his skin was incredibly wan, and lines and shadows hallowed out the area around his eyes. His whole, lank, form held the posture of someone who hadn't slept in a night too many. He held up the back of one of his long fingered hands up to his mouth, as he yawned –though he tried to keep his mouth closed, he failed. His eyes watered a little, and drooped. I almost thought it would be more fitting if his clothing and hair looked more disheveled than it did; instead he looked very clean in a simple white long sleeved shirt, and jeans. His hair did have a certain just-rolled-out-of-bed quality to it, but it looked clean enough. And he didn't smell bad, which counts as a plus, I think. But all this made his progressed exhausted state all the more curious.

Edward glanced in my direction, sensing my stare. I blushed, and quickly averted my gaze, in my embarrassment of being caught in the act.

"So," he said, as we pulled into the school parking lot. "After school, you'll come over to my house, for the project?"

"Uh. Yes. As far as I know," I answered, gracelessly.

"Just making sure," he said, nodding. He pulled into a parking space next to someone's rust encrusted Toyota.

I got out of his car, and we both sort of coincidentally met at the trunk of his car. We stared at each other, until we realized neither one of us had anything to say, then he said, "I have to go."

"Me too," I said, and we parted ways.

oO0Oo

I was confused by Edward's absence during both lunch and biology. I'd mentioned it to Alice, as she accompanied me to biology (she had thankfully given up quickly in interrogating me, though I got the idea that she wasn't about to let it drop completely). "He does this sometimes," she said. "Skip, I mean. It's for nothing interesting, though," she said, quickly, defensively. "He just doesn't sleep all that well, so if he gets too tired, during school, he just sits in his car. He rarely falls asleep, but it's better than having to keep his head up in class."

"Oh," I murmured. "That makes sense." It helped clear up the mystery of his apparent fatigue.

It shouldn't have bothered me though. Like, at all. But, it did. I hadn't realized how mind-bogglingly boring biology actually was, until he decided to not show. Then a thought occurred to me, while Mr. Banner was discussing the connection mitochondria had with RNA. What if he was ditching because he saw how enraptured I clearly was with him? Okay, _enraptured _is definitely too strong a word. But I had come to the conclusion there was something he was hiding –like a secret, of some kind. And so I couldn't help but stare at him, as if I could break his puzzle by staring at him hard enough. Curiosity had always been a weakness of mine.

But, what worried me was that he'd noticed by curiosity. Clearly, this was why he was ditching. Alice probably just didn't want to hurt my feelings. He probably wouldn't show, to do the project with me either. I could accept that. As much as I didn't want to. That was fine. I mean, not really, but I would act like it. I would keep my distance. My curiosity definitely had the potential to grow into a full-blown obsession. But I could get passed that. It didn't help that maybe I did have the slightest bud of a crush on him, either.

Who was I kidding? This was _horrible. _How had I managed to be so obvious? Mortification was the under-lying feeling, despite my desired put on of carelessness.

I considered skipping PE, when the bell rang, but I chose not to, in the end. Though, all I ended up doing, was trying to avoid the ball, in badminton, I was relieved when the last bell of the day rang. I just wanted to go home, with, or with out, Edward's transportation.

As I made my way out to the parking lot I spotted his silver Volvo. I had all the intentions in the world to just walk passed it. Maybe I could get a ride from Alice. I couldn't remember what kind of car she had though, so unless she came up to me and offered me a ride, I didn't see that really happening.

I had nearly made it out of the parking lot, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I jerked my head around, and nearly dropped my books, while I was at it. "Hey," I said to Edward. Which was confusing, considering he was avoiding me.

He looked equally confused, which I don't think he had to the right to, because he was avoiding me, and yet was trying to talk to me. "Where are you going?" He asked, a frown pulling his brow together.

"I'm going home," I answered, slowly. _Where else? _

"I thought we were doing the project together… at my house."

We stood there, staring at each other until I came to another revelation –that Alice could have possibly been telling the truth about Edward going in his car, just to rest, not because he was avoiding me. So, I said, "Oh, that's right. I forgot," and followed him to his car.

As he got in his car –after, yet again, opening the door for me- he said, "Did I miss anything important in biology?" It sounded like he didn't really care if he had –rather he sounded like he was asking, for the sake of asking.

"Not really. Unless you count a lecture on mitochondria and RNA something to be missed," I told him, tentatively. He glanced in his direction, though, I mostly tried to keep my eyes straight ahead. Just in case.

He snorted, more eloquently than I thought possible, and said, "Today was definitely a good day to miss biology."

Quiet. Again.

I sighed to myself. This was going to be a long day.

I felt Edward's eyes on the side of my face briefly, before he turned back to the road. "I hope you're okay with all of this."

"What do you mean?" I asked bemused how uneasy he sounded. Again, I found myself thinking it wasn't his place to feel the way he was feeling.

"Well, just with me driving you everywhere, and everything. And working together on this project too. I don't know. I probably am not helping the awkwardness by bringing this up. Since I had no conversational destination in mind." He blushed then, an honest to God blush, and glanced at me, again, sidelong.

I gaped a little. I had never known anyone to talk of the awkwardness head-on like that. It had always been something I wished I could do, to break the ice, but I'd long accepted it as something socially impossible, of both parties involved. So, then I laughed. A lot. And then he was laughing to. A lot. And we were both just laughing hysterically. I'm not even sure he knew why I was laughing, but it felt better that he was laughing too.

When our laughter died, he exhaled, luxuriously, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He seemed less stiff, and more relaxed. I would even dare to say he looked more rested. "So what were _you _laughing at?" he asked, and I was glad to hear how calm he sounded, now.

"I've just never heard anyone address awkwardness like that. Not to mention, that was complete word vomit."

He laughed again. It was a warm, healthy sound. It was oddly matched with his tired, but smiling face. "One of us would have to say something eventually –it was getting unbearable."

"I can't argue with that," I murmured. "We have a biology project to work on, after all." I had to ask then, "What were _you _laughing about?"

"Just at how hopelessly awkward every conversation we have is," he said wryly. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile.

I nodded, trying to keep up the rally of conversation. "So, how come you ditched biology and lunch?" I asked, though Alice had already told me. I wondered if their stories would match up.

"I just was feeling kind of tired," he said. "Nothing exciting."

"That's what Alice said," I told him, absently.

He glanced my way. "What?"

"I just asked her why you weren't there at lunch, and she told me you had trouble sleeping sometimes, so you ditched every now and then to sleep some," I struggled to sound casual as I told him this, though as I was saying it, I knew it was the wrong thing to say.

His expression iced over slightly, just for a moment, before passing, and he said, "Huh." That was it. Just Huh.

"So this is your house," I said, as he pulled into the double driveway of an impressive soft green colored Victorian.

"This is my house," Edward confirmed as he turned off the ignition.

"It's a beautiful house," I complimented.

"Thank you. Sort of."

As we walked up the steps to the porch, I asked him, "Do all of you have huge, beautiful homes? Or is it just you and Rosalie?" I meant to sound teasing, but I was half serious too. Which I half hoped he wouldn't hear.

"Well," he began carefully, as he opened the front door –which was apparently unlocked- "I guess it's really just Rose's and my family's. Emmett's too, actually –he has a huge family. Big enough that _I'm _not even sure of how many siblings he's got. I'm pretty sure it's seven. But not that sure."

He held the door open for me insisting "ladies first," and lead me down a hallway, he stopped at the entrance to a room, and greeted his mom. She came to the doorway and beamed at me. The likeness between her and her son was borderline ridiculous. They had the exact same shade of coppery hair, the same hard, green eyes, the same aquiline nose.

"Isabella!" she said. "What a surprise!"

"Bella," Edward corrected, automatically.

"That's right. Bella," his mom amended, still smiling to me. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you."

We stood there for a moment, Edward's mom, unabashedly beaming, me trying to keep up a smile, and him rolling his eyes. "Okay, mom. Me and Bella have to do a project for Bio, so if you'll excuse us…"

She swatted his shoulder and said, "All right, I get it. Dinner's on at six," she reminded him then turned her gaze to me. "Would you like to stay for dinner, Bella?

Edward shook his head, almost imperceptibly, from behind his mom. "Er –no. Thanks, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I have to make dinner for Charlie, anyway."

Her smile got wider, which I didn't think was possible. "We can invite him too." She turned to get approval from Edward but the look he gave her was distinctly disapproving. I wondered if I should be feeling hurt by Edward's blatant show of censure at me staying for dinner.

"Why not?" his mom asked him, as if she were offended at the idea, herself.

"Because, isn't Bella coming this Saturday, anyway?"

His mom fixed him with an odd look then said, "All right." She ducked back into the kitchen, from which the smell of a baked chicken wafted.

Edward led me up a staircase, and paused in front of a closed door, directly across. "This is my room," he indicated, before opening the door. The words he said seemed to belly some significance, but I couldn't understand what that would be.

His room was very neat, and pretty minimalist. He had a twin bed pushed up against one wall with the sheets straight, and made. He had a pine desk up against a window, with the shade drawn. There was a shelf next to his closet where he had a small collection of books on top, and where the rest of it was filled with CDs. It was also incredibly cold.

I stepped in the room, and dropped my backpack by his door, where he did the same.

I turned and looked up at him –and I mean, really looked up at him; I hadn't realized how much taller than me he was- and said, "Now what?"

He laughed again. Which was odd. He really didn't look like the laughing type, to be honest. "Now, we work on the project. That being the reason you're here and all."

"And what _is _our project?"

"We have to compare a cell, to some other thing. Like a mall, or a computer, or –I don't know. Something of that nature."

I frowned. "Didn't we do something like that in Biology 1?" I asked.

"Probably. Mr. Banner is kind of known for how easy his projects are."

"Neat."

"Not really."

I laughed. "Okay. So, do you have any ideas, then?"

I watched him fold sinuously, as he sat, on the edge of his bed. "No. I mean, sort of, but I'd rather hear your ideas first."

I gave him a look. "Tell me your ideas."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I just want to hear yours first."

He smirked at me, when my expression hardened, in annoyance. And I couldn't help but think then of the telltale arrogance Alice had spoken of. And I couldn't help but see how much more handsome he looked with the self-assuredness in his face. My resolve quaked and crumbled and I said, more dazedly than I would have liked, "I –I don't have any ideas, actually."

"That's fine," he said. "We can brain storm, I guess."

"You said you had ideas, though."

"They weren't any good."

"Why are you embarrassed by your ideas?"

"I'm not!"

"I think you are."

"You know what?" he said. "I'm not having this argument with you."

"Okay."

"Okay, then."

"So are we going to be productive now?"

He sighed. "Right. Because that's why you're here."

Silence. And with that awkwardness was restored.

Edward's gaze was on his window, and mine was on his face. His eyebrows were slanted at a determined sort of angle. It was a sort of hopeless determination. Like he was walking in a blizzard, with nothing but the clothes on his back, and no matter how much he tried to press against the blistering cold winds, his efforts were futile. I could see that struggle in his face. It didn't last very long. It was just the most briefest of moments where I would see this sort of weakness in him. His façade was quickly recovered however, there was that sliver of a smirk on his handsome face. "Maybe," he began, the smirk disappearing, into a more neutral expression "An orchestra would be a good comparison."

It took a moment for me to remember what we were doing here and to respond properly. "I haven't got any better ideas."

Some how we managed to fall into working easily after this. His new face he showed me was very business-like, and impersonal –contrary to his previous more friendly behavior. I half wondered if this was just because he wanted to work, or because he found his other mask he was hiding behind was too… well, friendly.

It was around six, and after we discovered neither of us could draw very well, and after Edward had written out a bullet-pointed out line, of comparisons, that we realized the time. Or, when his mom knocked on his door.

"Are you making progress?" she asked us.

Edward nodded to her, casually. "I think so."

She turned to me, holding the door with one hand. "Would you like me to give you a ride home?"

I glanced toward Edward, half hoping he would object, and insist that he drive me, but he seemed to be concentrating on going over the outline we'd come up with. "Okay. Thanks."

I followed her, out of his room, and out of the house, and into an unremarkable navy blue sedan parked next to Edward's Volvo. I scowled at the pinpoints of rain that fell from the clouds above, as we walked.

"The weather has been awful lately," she told me, as I took a seat next to her, in the dry haven of the car. "I mean, it's usually awful, but there's a storm rolling in every day."

"Do you like the rain?" I asked her.

"Yes, and no. I like it when we're not getting it twenty-four-seven. Otherwise I find there's something very peaceful about it."

A phantasmal flash of lightening threw everything into black and white for the briefest of seconds. "Peaceful," I observed, dryly.

She chuckled. "These storms are certainly _not _what I would call peaceful."

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet. I wondered if that was where Edward got it –that comfort in quietness. Often while we were working he'd gotten very quiet, and it was almost uncomfortable on my end, but then he just looked so at ease, that I didn't say anything, until he broke the silence.

When his mom pulled up against the curb she put a hand on my arm, stopping me. She looked like she was about to say something, but then her mouth closed, she changed direction, and smiled then asked, "Should I be expecting you tomorrow?"

I fidgeted a little, at realizing we had never set the next time we would meet. "I'm not really sure," I admitted. "I'll have to talk to Edward."

"All right, then," she said, her hand leaving my arm. "I'll see you this weekend."

I waved to her, as I ducked out of the car.

In truth, I sincerely thought that this little fascination I had with Edward was uncalled for, by all means. And it unnerved me that I should become so dependent on this one person, no matter how infinitesimal my dependency was. I didn't like picking his facial expressions apart bit-by-bit, trying to discover their internal meanings. I thought of how I'd analyzed his expression while he stared out his window, from his bed –that hopeless determination. I grimaced at the thought of how ridiculously seriously I was taking this little crush. I'd had crushes before, and had never taken a moment to study the object of my infatuation with such urgency as I had with Edward. Maybe because these particular figures had always been so obscenely out of my reach, that I never bothered to even entertain the idea of the person. But with Edward, he was right there in front of me.

With my obsession in mind, I came to the conclusion, that this was going to be an incredibly long week.

**A/N: AGH. Kindly forgive me. It's been more difficult than it's worth transitioning from writing my NaNoWriMo, to writing fanfiction. It doesn't help that I'm failing my Chemistry hard. In the face. The updates will pickup, as will, hopefully the plot. **

**Reviews would be made of amazing! Sorry about not replying to the bulk of the reviews for the last chapter! SERIOUSLY THOUGH. VIRTUAL PASTRIES OF YOUR CHOOSING WILL BE GIVEN :O**

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	7. chapter 7

**Chapter 7: My Manic And I**

**Edward**

I waited until I was sure Bella and my mom had left, before hastily changing into more fitting apparel for running. I suddenly felt all together too agitated and shaky and like I was going to either start crying or puke. Running is good for fixing that. I may have been excruciatingly tired, but running was indeed the only solution.

I felt better as soon as my feet hit the pavement. Already my head was clearing and my head didn't feel like a bowling ball about to roll right off my neck.

I only had Bella Swan to blame for the scrambled mess my brain was. First, I thought, hey, I'll be nice to her, right? Because that's what was expected, and not necessarily easy, but I'd rather get along with her that not. Right?

No. Not right. It wasn't working. Somehow, it didn't feel fake enough. There wasn't quite enough of a façade for the niceness to work. It was like a dam with a crack in it, and the oppressive pressure of the water was weaving more cracks and holes in the dam, and there can't be cracks and holes in a goddamn dam. It won't work. Because I liked Bella and she was pretty and smart and made me feel like an asshole and a complete moron and there was way too much potential for any of these feelings to escalate into something serious. And that was scary.

I really did feel like a total dick for shutting down, and just sort of being polite, but not friendly, like what I had been aiming for before. The thing was, though, was that it worked, and I felt safely isolated and detached. For the time being, at least. Really, I'd been going about this all wrong. The passing notes, and asking questions, and volunteering to drive her to school and back, and just basically everything I'd done where Bella was concerned –it was all wrong.

Yet, I had to wonder how long this would last. I was obligated the spend a lot of time with her. And that made me worry a lot. How long would this new façade last before it too crumbled?

Tanya came to mind again, reminding me that I still belonged to her –that I would always belong to her. Not in her voice exactly, but her presence in the back of my mind spoke volumes more than anything verbal.

It was unconscious this time, as I remembered Tanya again. I remembered that second encounter with her. I'd spent the following couple weeks in a cloud of determination. I'd asked everyone I knew if they knew the beautiful, mysterious girl from the party. But no one did. I'd tried calling the number she'd written on my palm, but the number was for some Indian restaurant in Salem.

Some how Emmett, Jasper, and myself, had ended up at a school dance. We'd been dead bored, and Jasper was moping because he'd yet again missed an opportunity to ask Alice out. So we were at this fall dance.

I ended up by myself; Jasper was looking for Alice, and Emmett was grinding on some girl he'd proclaimed as a "fine piece of ass." I wondered around the crowded gym, until I found the exit.

I sighed, luxuriating in the fresh air, and the quiet. I don't really know what I thought I was going to do out there, since Jasper had driven the both of us, so all I could really do was wait.

There was a noise, brief, and faint, that interrupted the quiet. I turned, searching for its source. A girl was crouched against the wall of the gym, and cigarette pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Smoke snaked above her head, and gusted from her parted lips. Her pale skin looked almost silver in the rare moonlight, and the hair that fell to her waist, looked a firey gold. It was _the_ girl.

She glanced up at me. "Hello, stranger." Her laughing eyes seemed to be undressing me, and it was, surprisingly, a lot more uncomfortable being sober, and all.

"So, what's the deal?" I asked. "I thought you lived in Portland."

"I do."

"You just hang around Forks a lot."

She shrugged. "I know people," she told me elusively. "Here –sit." She pat the place next to her, on the pavement, and I did. She handed me a cigarette from the carton on the ground between us, and handed me her lighter.

I held the two objects in my hands, and said, "Thanks. You know, for directing me to that great Indian restaurant." Funny story; I'd driven all the way over to fucking Salem, thinking that maybe she'd meant for me to meet her there –even though that didn't really make sense, but whatever. Though, the food was good, so it sort of made up for the whole thing. A little. Not really.

She snorted. "Did you really think I was just going to give you my number?"

I blinked. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Then you're more stupid than you look."

"Ouch."

She took a long pull on her cigarette, and breathed the smoke through her nostrils. "Why should I have given you my number?"

"Because I'm charming and handsome," I joked.

Her expression darkened. "That's what they all think."

"Who's 'they'?"

"Men."

"Ah."

"I'm against them."

"Me too."

She rolled her eyes and asked, apropos of almost nothing, "Do you really like me?"

"Well, yeah," I said, taken aback by the desperation that flitted across her face, for the briefest of moments. "You intrigue me," I told her, honestly.

She flicked her cigarette away and turned to look at me, with a very intense expression. "Thank you," she said, sincerely –like I'd done her a huge favor, rather than just compliment her.

"Oh –um. You're welcome," I said eloquently.

She smiled at me, again, her expression lifting. "My name is Tanya, by the way."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said and held out my hand.

She looked down at it, questioningly, and then back up at me. She pushed my hand away and leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine, hard, and quick. Too quick and sudden for me to kiss her back. She didn't seem to have noticed, or care; she hovered, close to my face though, and I could feel her hot, smoky breath on my mouth, and her hand, snaking its way around the nape of my neck. She kissed me again, softer, and more expected this time, so I could react, with the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Her hands moved to my shoulders, and she pushed my back to the wall, -while her lips maintained contact with mine and though my shoulder blades were dug uncomfortably into the wall, and my fingers were cold, and Tanya tasted like smoke, she was beautiful, and she told me her name, and she was kissing me. She clung to me with the same kind of desperation that was in her voice, and pressed every plane of her body, that she could, against me, and I couldn't object. I was kissing the beautiful mysterious girl from the party, and her name was Tanya, and this kiss was extremely personal.

Tanya sharply pulled back, from me, completely extricating herself from my grasp. I thought I'd done something wrong and immediately apologized, though I was still dazed.

She seemed dazed herself. Her lips were parted slightly, and her eyes unfocused. "No," she said, faintly. "Don't apologize for anything."

"What's the matter?" I asked her, frowning, at her odd behavior.

"I just –look, I have to go. Give me your number. I'll call you sometime," she promised in a rush, as she sprang to her feet.

I glared up at her. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, impatiently. "Christ, I just have to go. I said I'd call you, okay?"

I continued to frown up at her for a moment, utterly bewildered by the total change in person. She went from icy, to desperate, to impatient, and to be frank, it wasn't really fair to spring all of that on anyone in one sitting. "Sure," I said compliantly, despite the snarky comment I felt in the back of my mouth. "You have a pen?"

"I have a good memory –I don't need a pen."

_Yeah, right. Now she wants to get rid of me. _I told her my number, somewhat reluctantly

She nodded at me, and said, "Well, see you later," and loped off into the darkness of the road. I watched her disappear around a corner, at the time, sure that I would never hear from her again, and also wondering what to do with her cigarette and lighter.

oO0Oo

That was a bad memory to relive. Probably the worst. I picked up the pace of my run, to compensate for the hollow hurt left in my chest. I didn't want to face why it hurt, but it served as good a purpose as the memory I had recalled yesterday –though this one was less voluntary.

It put me in my place like no charade of normalcy could. It made me remember that I belonged to Tanya then, and I certainly did now. It made me remember that no superficial crush bore even a marginally relative weight on my consciousness as did Tanya. It made me remember that I was not normal, and that I was weak, and that I was never going to be okay, and that because of that, I could never be with anyone else.

The hurt of the memory didn't fade like it had for the last one, and I ran until it became lesser to my exhaustion. I ran until all I could think about was breathing, and the road ahead of me, and nothing else. I ran until after dark, and I kept running because I didn't want to feel anymore of this constant angst, and I just wanted to be really, truly happy again –not just a flicker of surface contentment. I wanted to feel happiness at its rawest and purest. I ran until I didn't even care about that.

I circled around at some point, and found my way back home. I didn't try to be quiet walking in. I really felt the strong desire to crawl into bed, and pass out, but there was my mom, sitting in the living room, arms crossed, light on. She looked like she was ready to give me a real talking to, but her expression softened and only said, "I wish you had left a note." She stood up from her chair, and smoothed my hair away from my face. "Honey, you look awful."

I swallowed. "I'm going to go to bed."

"I should think you would," she murmured. "You've been gone for hours."

"Hm," was all I said in response.

She seemed to, only then, register what I was wearing and groaned. "Edward," she said, disparagingly. "Please, please, _please _tell me you weren't running all that time."

"I wasn't running all that time."

She groaned again. "Edward, I really don't think that's very good for you."

"Yeah, it is," I argued, weakly. "It's good for your heart, and all that."

She frowned at me, seriously. "Go to bed, and get some rest, okay, kiddo?" she said smoothing my hair back from my forehead again. "Good night."

I went up stairs, dragging my sore feet, and moaning softly to myself, and not unlike a zombie. I showered off quickly -not even bothering to turn the water up higher than freezing- before going to my room, and falling on top of my sheets, with out removing the towel I'd wrapped around my hips, and fell into a deep, numb, sleep. For about an hour.

oO0Oo

The thing about Thursday and Friday, was that they were painfully slow, and tedious. I hadn't fully realized, how much time it was exactly that I was spending with Bella. I was with her when I drove her to school in the morning, I was with her, at lunch, I was with her in biology, I was with her when I drove her to my house, to work on our project. I drew the line at driving her home. It was really only because I felt that I'd gone through the whole day being with her, and feeling like an asshole. Plus, I felt seeing her house made it all the more harder to fight my little infatuation with her.

And I hated calling it that too –an infatuation. It made the whole thing sound really petty and stupid, but the more time I spent with Bella, the more I liked her, and the more I liked her, the more worried and anxious I got, and that meant less sleep, and it was just all around bad. But every time I was with her, I noticed her blush, her teeth at her lip, her long brown hair, her tapered feminine fingers, the jagged edges of her chewed nails, her dark, expressive eyes. I noticed her strange, but true little comments, her small, Mona Lisa-smile, her clumsy gait. I tried to not find such pleasure in seeing her genuine frustration at my indifference toward her, but I did.

There was hardly anything worth mentioning, as I said, about the rest of the week, except for when Coach Clapp approached me after PE, and demanded why I hadn't turned in my application for Track tryouts –as I was usually the first to turn mine in.

"My mom doesn't want me to do track this year," I admitted.

"What?" he demanded.

"I said-"

"I know what you said. What're you talking about? Why wouldn't your mom let you do track?"

"Er," I began, trying to put this as lightly as possible. "I have problems sleeping."

He pulled his sunglasses off, and squinted up at me. "Yeah? What's that mean?"

I bit back a sigh, and said, "I have insomnia."

"What do you have _insomnia _for? You're just a kid."

I shrugged. "It's genetic."

"Huh," he said. "Well, I guess you're mom is right."

"Sorry, Coach."

He nodded and said, "Look, I was going to tell you about this, before I knew about your insomnia, and all, but there's this ten-K, I think you should consider. Even if your mom doesn't want you to." He handed me a sign up sheet. "It's supposed to raise awareness for Luekimia, or poverty in Africa, or something."

"Thanks," I said, even though I wasn't even really sure if I wanted to do the ten-K. I had resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be doing any extracurricular sports this year, so I didn't exactly have the motivation I normally would have.

"Sure, thing," he said. "You best get to class now."

The only other thing worth mentioning, was Bella's reminder about dinner on Saturday, when I dropped her off at Charlie's (I only drove Bella home on Friday, because it was Friday, and I couldn't make myself spend more time with Bella than I had to, even though I wanted to. But it was for that reason that I couldn't.) "What?" I said, a bit confused, initially.

She blushed slightly –and for no apparent reason, like most of the time when she blushed-, and said, "Yeah, remember? You asked me earlier this week." I stared back at her, for too long, because her blush was actually very pretty on her pale face.

"Oh," I said, finally, trying to fight a blush myself. "That. Right."

She nodded, and blushed harder. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," she said, as she ducked out of my car, and slamming the door a little too hard, behind her.

Jesus, now I had to worry about that. And here, I'd been looking forward to a nice, relaxing, Bella-less weekend. It was weird though, because I felt so riddled with contradiction over Bella; on the one hand I liked Bella -and I didn't know if the feeling was only so quickly intensified because of my need to feel more platonicly toward her than I did- because she said interesting things, and was quiet, and strange, and pretty, but then on the other hand I could not like her. Which I've said many times before. But it's that important, and I had to remind myself of it that many times.

I ran for a couple hours that Friday, trying to run off my nerves, and stress, even though I'd had a headache and had been feeling dizzy the whole day. Needless to say, I was glad when I got back home after the run, so I could sink into bed, and fall asleep for the brief time that I could before dinner was ready. Which was roughly five minutes.

Early the next morning Alice came over, since I'd been awake already. She said on the phone that she had something she wanted to talk to me about, and yes, it had to be in person. But she never mentioned it. She just raided my cabinets for a suitable breakfast, before settling on a box of Special K. I'm more of a Poptart man, myself.

"Are your parents still asleep?" she asked me, casually, as she poured milk into her cereal. Too casually, if you ask me.

"Yeah," I said. "Why?"

"Just wondering."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Oh," she said. "That." She didn't add anything. She took her time taking a seat in front of me, at the table, and putting her napkin on her lap.

Alice always does this. she makes a big fuss out of something _has _to talk to you about, but when the actual time comes for her to talk about said something, she gets all closed off, and stalls, and it doesn't make much sense. She must have been aiming for subtlety, but she's not a very subtle person in general, so that wasn't really working for her. It really just seemed like bad acting.

"Okay," I said. "I get it. You're stalling."

She glanced up at me. "Stalling?" She actually did a pretty good job of looking confused.

I broke off a corner of my Poptart. "I think you know what I'm talking about."

"I'm not stalling."

"Okay."

"I'm _not_," she stipulated, at my skeptical tone.

I didn't say anything. I just waited. Alice wasn't one to hold back. Seeing as she's all unsubtle and all. She'd crack sooner rather than later. I ate the corner of the Poptart I broke off, and probably burned my tongue.

"So, what are you planning on doing today?" Alice asked me. She was more persistant at stalling than usual, which made me very worried about whatever she was stalling over was.

"Nothing really, I guess. Bella and her dad are supposed to come over for dinner. I don't know when, but I'm sure my mom's sorted all that out with the Chief." I studied her closely, for a long minute, a bit taken aback by the ecstatic grin all over her face. "Why?" I asked cautiously. "Does whatever you have to discuss have anything to do with what I'm doing today?" Then all of a sudden I realized why she was smiling like that and all I said was, "Oh, Jesus –Alice. Give me a break."

"Did you invite her to dinner yourself?" she asked, eagerly, leaning forward in her seat.

"Yeah, but-"

"I knew you liked her!" she squealed in victory, before I could finish my disclaimer.

I sighed, and rubbed my hand on my face, hard. Did everyone know about this? "Alice," I said.

"What?" she demanded a little too excitedly.

"Shut up, please."

"Why did you wait until just now to tell me about you inviting Bella over for dinner?" she demanded ignoring my request all together, then continued, without waiting for my answer, muttered to herself, "And why did Bella not bother to tell me at all –for that matter-?" she glared into space, then at me. "That wasn't a rhetorical question."

"How am I supposed to know why Bella didn't tell you about the dinner party?"

"Edward!" she snapped, slapping her open hand on the tabletop.

"What?" I said, defensively, even though I knew what she'd meant.

"You know what I meant," she said, accusingly.

I sighed. "Why are all of you suddenly so invested in every interaction I have with Bella?"

"Didn't Emmett and Jasper have that conversation with you?"

"I didn't really get where they were going with that. It wasn't really much of a conversation anyway –Emmett ended up banging his head on my desk, and Jasper was more interested in getting something to drink."

Alice sighed. "Well, to answer your question," she began, adopting a more sober tone, "Doesn't this sort of change things for you?"

_Sort of_? There was really no _sort of _about the things changing for me. Let me be honest, for a moment: I am a person who likes stability. Things are the way they are, and they are not going to change. It doesn't mean I don't like change, per se, but once I've accepted things to be a certain way, that's it. It's that way. "Sure," I said, purposefully avoiding her speculative gaze. "But why does that mean anything?"

Alice gaped and opened and closed her mouth a few times before simply saying, "Emmett was right."

"About what?" I asked, warily.

"You being a delusional mess."

I scowled at her. "You can't be serious."

She took a spoonful of her cereal, and her eyes darted up at me. "I am," she said through her mouthful.

"I'm not talking about this. _We _aren't talking about this," I told her. Because we weren't. This wasn't a conversation I was ready to have with anybody aside from myself.

"Edward, we need to talk about this," she pleaded, pushing her bowl of cereal away. "It's not healthy to bottle this stuff up. You need to let it out."

"We don't need to talk about this!" I hissed.

"Yes, we do!" Alice hissed back.

"You only want to talk about this, because you're incessantly nosy."

Alice gasped. "I'm telling Jasper you said that," she threatened.

I rolled my eyes, and broke off another piece of my Poptart. I hoped Alice wouldn't bring it back up again, but knowing her, I didn't have a prayer. And I really did hope that Alice wouldn't say anything to Jasper; last summer he went to boot camp –voluntarily, I might add- and came back a changed man. As in, when Emmett and Jasper got in a fight, Jasper –who continually ended up losing- gave Emmett a broken nose, and a black eye. So. We were all a little wary of him, after that.

"Why are you having such a hard time with this? Doesn't this sort of mean that you've moved on?" Alice said, softly. I suppose her tone was sort of consoling in a sense, but the questions she was asking pretty much ruined that whole effect.

I felt the wall going up, like a reflex. "No. It doesn't mean anything," I told her flatly.

Alice heaved a sigh. "Don't you act like that with me, Edward. I know this is bothering you, and it _does _mean something. It means a lot, and I know it." Alice's face looked almost livid with determination. I'd been on the receiving end of this look many a time. Only now, though, did it ever genuinely stir something in me.

"You don't know _anything, _so don't talk and act like you do," I snapped, while still trying to keep my voice low, for the sake of keeping my parents asleep.

Her face was perfectly and completely dumbstruck, and offended. "Okay, Edward, fine. Be in denial." She stood up, and glared down at me. "But one day, you will wake up, and when you do, I hope you realize how ridiculous you've been." She began to walk out of the room, but then turned on her heel, just as she was through the kitchen door way, and said, "I'm trying to help you. You aren't doing yourself any favors by-"

I cut her off quickly, saying, "I get it. Bye." I almost regretted being as brusque as I was being, but as long as she was trying to force another one of these conversations on me, it was necessary.

Alice's expression darkened perceptibly, and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from apologizing to her, but I didn't. I just waited for her to turn back around, and for the slam of the front door.

I felt sorry, in truth, about being rude to Alice, because she really was one of my closest friends. But what if I had let her go on, and weasel me into spilling my guts? I know it's crazy, but, I quite like my guts inside my body, like they're supposed to be.

I didn't really do much the rest of the day, except worry about how I was going to act with Bella around, and everything. I tried to strategize some plan of attack, but there was really no realistic way to plan for tonight. So, I just spent the day trying to distract myself. I watched TV, tried reading some more of _American Psycho _before putting it down to try reading _Invisible Monsters. _That didn't really work out so well, either, though, so I found myself running, again.

Running can only serve as entertainment/distraction for so long, however. I was too stressed to even enjoy the relaxing effects of exercise. I was too stressed to realize how ridiculous that was.

As soon as I got home, my mom thrust a mop and bucket into my hands, and told me the kitchen was filthy –_filthy- _and demanded I clean the floor, we were having company over tonight, and my God I hope you aren't planning on wearing _that _tonight.

After I mopped the floor in the kitchen, she had me do a variety of other tasks, such as wash all the dishes, wash all the windows, dust every surface in the house, vacuum the living room, clean the toilets, then the bath tubs (I wondered who she thought would be inspecting our bath tubs, out of Bella and Charlie, or our toilets, for that matter), unload the laundry, and separate dirty laundry, from light, dark, and medium, clean my room (which was already clean, might I add) , and where's your father? He's disappeared, -once _again_!- to his office, when he knows full well that I_ need his help_! (She shouted that last bit up the stairwell, as if he can hear her. Which I'm sure he can, but either way, he wasn't going to act like he could hear her.) So, basically, I was stuck with the cleaning, in it's entire. My mom thought it was just her job to go following me about, telling me what I was doing wrong, and what I needed to do, after I finished cleaning whatever it was that I ws cleaning.

Then, she had to leave, to the butchers, to get the chicken she was roasting for dinner. Which I thought was pretty fantastic, until I saw a clock and the time which it displayed, and realized Bella was going to be here, in my house, eating dinner, at the same table as myself, and my parents, and tried to take a few deep breaths, but then I choked a little on the last one, and my whole panic wasn't helping that, so I strated wheezing and coughing, and then my dad peeked his head into the living room, where I was standing, wearing yellow rubber gloves, clutching a feather duster, shirtless, sweaty, and coughing.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I wheezed.

He nodded. "Is your mom…?" he asked with an indicative head tilt toward the door.

I cleared my throat, and took a breath this time through my nose, to save myself the trouble of another panic induced coughing fit. "Yeah. She went to get the chicken," I told him. "For dinner," I clarified, wholly unnecessarily.

He sighed, in relief then departed to the kitchen.

"Thanks for being such a help," I called to him, as I sprayed the top of the coffee table with Pledge.

"Not you too," he groaned.

"Yes, me too. I had to do all of the work. _All _of it! You just hid out in your office, while mom went about, cracking her whip. Not a real whip. A figurative whip. But still."

"It's your fault you didn't think of it," he said, simply.

"That's only because I didn't realize she was going to ambush me the minute I got home."

"Well, that's where you went wrong. You know how your mom gets when we're expecting company."

He had me there; I definitely knew how my mom got when we were expecting company. My mom is a social person. She likes talking, and she likes being around people. I might also add, that she distinctly wears the pants in my parents' relationship. So, she's also more of a leader, than a follower, but she likes people to approve of her, I guess. I don't really get it, personally, so I can't explain her sheer horror on the day our visitors, are to arrive, and our house isn't positively spotless, just adequately. The horror. The. Horror.

So, after I thought I'd sufficiently cleaned the coffee table, I retired to my room. I had gotten virtually no sleep the night before, and I felt like I could pass out, easy. Everything was a shade too bright, and there was a dull throb, in the spot just between my eyes. I just lay in bed, feeling that painful balance between sleep and wakefulness. It was like a mirage in the desert –just as you got close enough to touch the water, you realized in was only sand, in the guise of heat.

It wasn't like I could sleep much anyway, with anxiety festering in my insides, anyway. It was odd to think how little of a threat Bella Swan had posed just earlier this very week. Now I saw her for what she was; a threat. She was a threat to the status quo, and the way I'd accepted things to be. I clung to Tanya with a desperate fervor, knowing that were I to let Bella in, I'd have to let Tanya go, and I couldn't bring myself to do either. So, I was left with acting like I didn't care for Bella, at all, really.

I wrestled with that for a while –Bella, Tanya, Sleep, then Bella again- before my mom came upstairs, and alerted me that I needed to put on some nice clothes, and get up. According to her, Charlie and Bella were coming over around five-thirty or six, and it was currently five, as it was.

Then, after taking a shower, and getting dressed, I thought I could just stay there, in my room. Which was pretty naïve of me, considering the frantic state mom was in. The door banged open, and she was standing there, hair loose from her twist, and oven mits still in place. "What are you doing up here?"

"Homework," I told her, honestly.

Her expression was furiously incredulous. "Charlie and Isabella are about to be here _any minute _and you are doing _homework_?" The question came out as more of a shriek.

I looked down at the Spanish worksheet, and the pencil in my hand, then back up at her. "Yes."

She put a hand over her eyes, in a show of exasperation, and said, "Go set the table, please, Edward."

So, then, while I'm setting the table, the doorbell rang. Everyone seemed to freeze –my mom, placing the chicken on the table, my dad, who was chided into tossing the salad, and me, trying to figure out where the salad fork went. Mom stood upright, immediately, pat a flyaway hair into place, smoothed out the front of her dress, and went to the door.

My dad went after her, and stood at her side, as she greeted the Chief and Bella. I continued setting the table, and tried to appear as nonchalantly unaware of their presence as possible.

"Edward!" my mom barked from the foyer. I looked up sharply at her. She waved me over, and I really couldn't do anything but comply.

Bella looked nervous, and her cheeks were already dark with some enigma of an embarrassment. I smiled, coolly toward her, and she said, "Hi, Edward."

I tipped my head, in acknowledgement of her greeting, and turned to Charlie.

We migrated into the dining room then. Bella answered all my mom's unnecessary questions, and laughed at my dad's lame jokes, but I could feel her eyes on me. Sometimes it's hard to not look at someone when you can feel them looking at you. This was one of those times. I tried to keep my head down, and my gaze away from her, but she was relentless.

"Are you all right?" my mom asked me, quietly.

Bella glanced my way, almost as if I had said her name, then looked back in the direction of my dad, who was relating to her some story I hadn't been paying attention to.

"Yeah," I told her. "I'm fine."

"You're just sitting there, and not saying anything. You look sick. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I insisted.

"Well, buck up, then –we have _company_," she hissed.

I tried to. But the conversation they were having didn't make sense, and my head was pounding, and I was really, very tired. The topic suddenly changed and my mom was asking "So, what part of Arizona did you say you were from?"

I looked at Bella then. She was already looking at me, she blushed, and looked toward my mom, pointedly. "Scottsdale," Bella said. "It's not that far from Phoenix."

"You know, I have a cousin who lives in Scottsdale," mom said. "I can't stand that kind of heat."

Bella shrugged, and tucked her hair behind an ear. "I like the heat."

"Fair enough," mom said. She poured herself another glass of wine, and asked, innocently enough, "How are you adjusting to school?"

Bella's eyes darted my way again. "Um, okay, I guess. It's a lot smaller than my school, back home."

"Do you miss Arizona?" mom asked, curiously.

I resisited the urge to roll my eyes at that. _Obviously. _

"Not really," Bella admitted. "I mean, I love Arizona, and it's my home, and all, but I really miss my mom." She was looking at the Chief as she said that, and there was a certain tenderness in her eyes. It was too bad the Chief was talking to my dad, and not paying attention. Then again, it seemed like one of those looks she didn't intend for anyone to see.

Mom hummed sympathetically. "Well, I'm sure you'll see her again over summer."

Bella glanced at me. "Yeah, I know. I've just never made such a long term commitment to Forks, before. It's just sort of weird." I shouldn't have been so taken by the sadness so plain in her face. It was excruciating to look at, partially because I wanted to comfort her, and partially because I identified with it. It wasn't so much the exact subject, but the way that her misery faded too soon from her face, into a mask that could have almost fooled me. Almost. I had a mask just like hers, after all.

As dinner wound down, the 'adults' decided they wanted to move into the living room. "Oh, but I should clear the table," mom said, with a sigh.

"I'll do it," Bella volunteered immediately. She turned to me, then, and said timidly, "Do you want to help?" Her voice may have quavered, and rose in pitch, but her eyes held bright, sharp, determination.

I hesitated. Yes, I wanted to help –not so much because I found clearing the table an enthralling activity, but more so because I wanted to know more about Bella and her sadness, and her mask. But could I actually be alone with her like that? No, I didn't think so.

Mom, however thought otherwise by saying, "Of course, he'll help." She, Dad, and the Chief left the room after that, leaving me with no choice.

I turned very slowly to face Bella. She was blushing as furiously as ever, and was trying to busy herself with stacking plates, and not looking at me. I fell to stacking the plates, and gathering the silver ware as well, and I expected Bella to talk to me about something, but she said nothing. Not until we were safely, in the kitchen, that is.

I was rinsing plates, and she was putting them in the dish washer, when she said, "Can you explain to me what I did to offend you?"

She was looking at me with an almost angry expression, that wasn't totally intimidating, but I'd never seen such an expression on her shy face before. "Nothing. You didn't do anything," I told her, stunned by her unconcealed resentment.

"Then why are being so…" she struggled for a word and settled finally on, "weird. You were being nice to me before, and then, all of a sudden you act like, well, like I did something to offend you. Which I didn't do, so I don't know why you're acting like this."

I handed her a plate. "You didn't do anything," I repeated, wary of what I could say to assure she hadn't done anything with still keeping my distance.

"_Okay_. So then why are you treating me like the pariah?"

"I'm _not." _

She glared at me, before putting the plate into the dishwasher. "Edward, you _are._"

I grimaced, and pushed my hair out of my eyes. What could I even say to her? Could I tell her that she should maybe just leave me alone? Could I tell her that I just didn't like her? Could I tell her that my interest in her conflicted too greatly with other, longer established interests? Could I tell her I was sorry? I handed her the next plate. "I'm sorry."

She took the plate, but I didn't let go of it. I felt frozen there, in waiting for her answer. Her dark expressive eyes, softened. "I just want to know why," she said, softly.

I felt my brow come together, and I pressed my lips together. I wanted in that moment so badly to tell her everything. To tell her about Tanya, and tell her how I still was hers, and I couldn't change just yet, and that I thought of her now, whenever I thought of Tanya. But I couldn't tell her any of that. "I've just been having a stressful week," I told her, because there was some truth to that, though it was really on a grander scale than that.

"Oh," she said. She looked away from me. I didn't look away from her. "Sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that."

"No, it's nothing, honestly."

"I shouldn't have said that."

"It's cool. Don't worry about it."

We were quiet for a while, and it was oddly… comfortable. There was just the sound of muffled laughing, and chattering, from the living room, water running, and the clink of plates.

"Are we friends, then?" she asked me, tentatively.

_Oh, Hell. _There was no escaping this one. I should really have more will power, but I wasn't usually faced girls like Bella Swan. "Okay," I croaked.

She smiled very slightly. "Just making sure."

The Chief and my parents came into the room not long after that. It was getting late, apparently. The Chief clapped me on the shoulder and said it was good to see me, Bella smiled at me, and said "I'll see you on Monday." I smiled and nodded my head, and hung back, while my parents showed them out.

My mom said she and dad would take over cleaning up, so I went upstairs. I stripped down to my boxers, once in my room, and lay in bed. The last thought I had, before slipping into unconsciousness was _what have I done?_

I guess I would have to find out.

**A/N: I have been writing this chapter like a writing loon on writing tablets. For real. I would have had this done quicker, but the week before last I was visiting family. **

**The reviews have been amazing! UH-MAY-ZING. So. You know. I still have some pastries. Just putting that out there. **

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	8. chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Breeze**

**Bella**

It was hard to know what to expect from Edward, Monday morning. On the one hand, he had said that he'd only been stressed –that, that was what made him distant and cold- and, yes, okay, we could be friends. But on the other, after I got the chance to sit down, and think about it, it seemed to me that he'd only agreed to be friends, merely to placate me. It seemed that he only wanted to brush me off, so I would stop bothering him.

So, I was once again a complete nervous mess –even more so, than usual, that is- that Morning. I felt almost queasy, so I didn't really eat breakfast. Instead I just nursed a glass of water, and waited for the nerves and nausea to pass. Which didn't happen.

The doorbell finally rang then, and I tried to swallow my anxiety, but that's not so easy to do on a nauseous stomach. I forced myself up from the table, and to the front door. I had to open the door, and I had to face Edward, but I was embarrassingly afraid that I would see the same indifferent expression I'd seen since last Wednesday.

The doorbell chimed again, and I knew I had to open it. My hand felt clammy on the doorknob, and my stomach rolled. I took a deep breath, and thrust the door open.

Edward's body was half turned, as if he was about to leave.

"Hey," I said breathlessly.

"Oh," he said, turning to face me, and smiling his crooked smile. I took advantage of that moment to admire his handsome, yet weary, face. "You're here."

"Yeah. I –um- I couldn't find my other shoe. Sorry."

"No worries. Are you ready to go?"

Some part of me managed to be utterly confused and delighted by his warm temperament, while the other part of me was slightly horrified, because now I felt obliged to act as smooth, as at ease, as Edward. The problem was that I couldn't, just quite. "Uh –yeah, I just have to grab my –my bag."

"Okay," he said. "I'll wait here."

As I was running up the stairs, to get my bag, I tripped on the top step, and quickly straightened myself, and looked around myself, as if Edward would be standing there, behind me, laughing at my folly.

But, when I came down stairs, he was still standing on the porch, his back facing me. He turned, as I approached him, and smiled that miraculously genial smile.

The only thing that seemed to be constant with Edward was him opening the door for me. Even while he was aloof, and hardly even looked at me, he would open the door for me. Which I have to say, was very baffling. But, then again, Edward, as a whole seemed to be the human incarnation of baffling.

And, so, once again, he opened his car door for me, before going around to his side of the car. As he was pulling out of the driveway, he asked, offhandedly, "How was your Sunday?"

"It was good," I said. "Got homework done. You?"

"Yeah. I worked."

"At the theater."

He smiled. "You remembered."

I blushed, and wished I had a quippy comeback.

"I'm sorry about last week," Edward said suddenly.

I turned to look at him. "You don't need to be, really."

He shook his head. "It's just sometimes –when I get stressed like that- I don't think about other people, and how I'm acting effects them. Like, this weekend I was being a real asshole to Alice –even though she didn't deserve it. So, I'm sorry, really." A light flushed crawled up his ears.

I was a bit -shall I say, taken aback? - by his honest apology. I got all tongue-tied for a moment before I could say, "It's okay. Seriously, you don't need to worry about it. I understand."

He glanced furtively in my direction. "Actually I do have to worry about it," he muttered.

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I have a feeling you'll see," he said, cryptically, as he drove into the school parking lot.

_What? _I decided maybe I should just keep quiet, and wait it out, to see what he meant, if he really thought that I'd see.

As we were getting out of his car, I noticed Jasper walking toward us, from the other end of the parking lot, smiling a threatening smile.

"Christ," Edward sighed, closing his door.

I glanced over at him. "Is this what you meant by 'you'll see'?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"What does Jasper have to do with anything?"

Edward began to walk toward Jasper and waved me over. I frowned, and followed him. "I'm thinking," he murmured, "that you being here will cushion Jazz's reaction."

"What does Jasper have to do with anything?" I asked again.

Edward didn't answer again, though. Jasper was within hearing distance and called, "Hey, Ed."

"Hey, Jazz," Edward returned, not quite slowing his pace.

And then, just as they were about to pass each other, Jasper pulled back his fist, in what appeared to be slow motion, and slammed it into Edward's face, before I could do or say, anything. And here I'd just been wondering what Edward was getting so worked up about.

The force of Jasper's unexpected punch knocked Edward flat on his back. Everyone around had stopped to watch. Edward groaned, and pulled himself to his feet. I stared at him, still stunned. "What the _fuck_, Jasper?" Edward yelled, a hand over his eye.

Jasper shrugged. "That's what you get for being a pissy bitch to my girlfriend."

Edward dropped his hand, and I winced, myself. It was already an angry red, around his eye. "I know," he sighed.

"Good," Jasper said. For a guy who just punched someone in the face, he looked pretty calm, I thought. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Will do." Then Edward smiled oddly, reverently, and told Jasper "That really hurt," like a compliment.

Jasper smiled back, pleased. "Thanks. See you." He waved, and walked toward the school.

People lingered in a circle, around Edward for a while, muttering to each other. I finally found my voice and said, "Are you okay?"

He turned to me, and grinned. "Yeah, I'm fine. How's it look?" he asked, pointing to his right eye.

"It's real red looking, and it's already swelling," I told him honestly, with a sympathetic grimace. "It's definitely going to bruise."

Edward shook his head, awed. "Goddamn, Jasper can really throw a punch."

"How can you talk about it like that?"

He began to walk toward the school, and I went after him, for his answer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how can you talk about someone punching you in the face like a it's a cool car?"

He rolled his eyes. Er –eye. "It's sort of a guy thing, I guess. You really have to respect a punch like that. Even if you're the one being punched. _Especially_ if you're the one being punched."

I made a face.

He laughed.

"So, I guess I know what that was about, don't I?"

"And what's that?"

"You being a jerk to Jasper's girlfriend."

He nodded. "I really did have that coming, though. What decent boyfriend thinks it's okay for another guy to act like an asshole –or, in Jasper's words, a 'pissy bitch'- to their girlfriend? It's not right."

"So, you would punch a guy in the face, if he was being rude to your girlfriend?"

A shadow passed over his face, but he answered, without a hitch, "Yes."

I shook my head. It sounded like a lot of macho cock and bull to me, but, then Jasper really did punch Edward in the face for that very reason.

He touched my shoulder, to stop me only, but the touch sparked, and tingled, when his hand left my shoulder. I was pathetic. He turned to face me and smiled, roguishly. "But, tell me –this looks kind of badass, right? Like I got in a fight?"

I felt my eyebrows push together. "I guess. But,_ you're_ the one with the black eye."

He sighed. "That's true."

"It could be worse," I said, in a lame attempt at making light of the situation.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

I looked up at him, and at his swollen, reddish-purple eye. "Never mind."

He laughed raucously at that, and a few people stared at him, as we continued to walk.

The bell rang then, and Edward said he'd see me later.

I spent the majority of my time in class, that morning mulling over Edward's surprisingly cooperative behavioral change. I mean, yes, I had confronted him –which had taken a hell of a lot more mental prepping than I hoped it looked like- and demanded why he was acting so strangely robotic toward me. He'd told me it was stress. And I didn't believe him. Namely, due to the fact that he seemed to only feel the need to act that way around me, for I'd seen him laughing and smiling with his other friends. So, why me? What was it about _me _specifically that had set him off? The strangest part of this, was that he'd listened to me, and conceded to be friends with me. And not only that, he'd actually followed through with his promise.

After some time of dwelling on Edward, I came to the conclusion that there was no rhyme or reason –that was apparent, or feasible to me- as to why he acted the way he did toward me. I leaned toward the notion that he was faking the niceties, and really didn't like me as much as he'd made it seem, but if I thought like that, I knew it would be impossible to be around him, at all.

Aside from my internal debating over a certain confusing-but-quite-good-looking- somebody, my morning was altogether eventless, until trig. Jessica turned to me, after Mr. Varner finished the instructions –which only took up most of the hour- for today's partnered assignment (which was really just a work sheet he gave us, that was on the next unit, to figure out) with an enthused grin on her face. Why did I just then have the acute feeling she had a piece of gossip she wanted to dish?

"Did you hear about the fight?" she demanded.

Oh. That was why.

I glanced up at her from the worksheet, and tried to feign polite disinterest. "Fight?"

Her grin stretched, obviously pleased she got to be the one to fill me in. "Yeah, get this: You know Edward Masen and Jasper Whitlocke?"

I nodded slowly, not sure if I liked where this was going.

"Well, apparently, they got in a total fight before school, over Alice. I heard Alice has been cheating on Jasper with Edward, and Jasper found out. Can you believe that? Jasper and Edward were good friends too."

"Um, Jessica, there was no fight," I interjected before she could go on. I felt embarrassed for Edward just hearing this.

Her eyebrows twitched up, skeptically. "Have you _seen _Edward's face?"

"Yes," I said, tentatively. "But it really wasn't much of a fight."

"Uh huh." Jessica's tone remained doubtful. "So what happened then? Edward fell and got a black eye?"

"_No_."

"Then, what?"

"Edward was being rude to Jasper's girlfriend, so Jasper punched him in the face."

Jessica narrowed her eyes. "That sounds like a fight to me."

"Edward didn't fight back, or anything. He said he deserved it. He said if a guy was being rude to his girlfriend, he'd do the same."

Jessica's next reaction was puzzling: First she snorted, then said, "That's rich –_if _he had a girlfriend."

I felt a familiar crease form between my eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?" I had sort of gone along with the assumption that Edward had a girlfriend, with out thinking about it. This was mainly due to the fact that someone with a crooked smile as devilishly anxiety-inducing as his, and a head of coppery-messy-but-not-too-messy hair like his, should have a girlfriend. It's in the rules of life. I dare you to prove me wrong.

Her eyes popped, wider, and there was this glimmer of pathetic hopefulness in her eyes, like she was saying, _Please, Baby Jesus, let me be able to spread another piece of gossip. _"You haven't heard?"

I shook my head slowly. I worried briefly that by encouraging Jessica to share petty gossip about Edward would be invasive, but then my elephant-sized curiosity trampled that worry.

Jessica smiled and lowered her voice conspiratorially, to share. "Well, last year, Edward started dating this total skank. I don't remember her name. I think it was Tina, or Taylor. Something with a 'T'. By the way, Edward used to be a really cool guy, and I used to have a huge crush on him, but after what happened with his girlfriend last year, he just freaked out. He only ever talks to his friends, and pretty much ignores everyone else. His friends are super weird about it too. Like, I was saying how weird he was now, and Rosalie heard me saying that and-" here she dropped her voice lower, and her expression darkened with a flicker of malice-"and she told me my skirt made my thighs look fat."

I stared back at her, wide-eyed.

"She's a total bitch anyway, though," Jessica muttered, looking away.

"What happened to Edward's girlfriend?" I whispered, urgently.

"Oh, she-" Jessica was cut off, by the shrill ring of the bell. "I'll talk to you later, Bella," Jessica said cheerfully. She got up from her seat, snagged her bag, and ducked out of the room, before I could pry more information from her.

It took me a moment to lurch to my feet, and retrieve my bag, but I eventually was able to. This new development in the curious case of Edward Masen was nothing less than entirely intriguing. What had happened to him that had made him change so much? Who was his girlfriend, and why did Jessica think she was a 'skank'?

So riddled was I with my internal curiosity, that when Mike said my name (for what seemed like more than the first time) I jerked back in my seat. "Yeah?" I said shakily.

He smiled slightly. "You okay?"

"I –I'm fine. I was just spacing out."

"It's fine. So, do you want to be my partner?" he asked me.

I eyed him cautiously. "Partner?"

"Yeah," he said. "For the activity."

I looked around, and remembered that I was in Spanish class. I shook my head, to clear it. "Sure. Yeah."

We finished the activity relatively quickly. It helped to know that Mike's accent was as bad as mine.

I really just wanted to spend more time puzzling over what Jessica had said about Edward, but Mike seemed determined to strike up a meaningful conversation with me.

"How was your weekend?"

"It was good," I said distractedly.

"That's good," he said.

"Yep."

A pause.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing really." I didn't feel that it was entirely necessary to tell him about the dinner with Edward.

"Did you do that essay outline for English?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"Neat."

He paused again.

"Do you like the book we're reading in English?"

I sighed. This was going to be a long period.

oO0Oo

At lunch, I found the same table I'd eaten at last week, easily. It was a little nerve wracking finding a seat there, with out Alice's usual guidance, but no one seemed to notice much. I carefully took a seat next to Angela, and across from Edward. His eyes darted toward me –or eye, I guess. His eye was very swollen and very purple from what I could see-, and he smiled, but turned his attention back to the conversation he was having with Ben and some boy with curly brown hair.

I took my sandwich from my bag, when I heard Edward say, what sounded like to me, "What kind of sandwich is that?"

I looked up at him, slowly, eyes wide, then at my sad sandwich. I lifted the top slice of bread and said, "Turkey, mustard, and Swiss on rye."

His lip curled slightly in distaste.

"What's wrong with that?" I demanded defensively.

"Mustard. That's what's wrong."

I rolled my eyes. "Clearly, then, you don't have a very sophisticated taste palette," I teased.

He put on an expression of mock offense. "I will have you know I have a supremely sophisticated taste palette. So sophisticated that I know that mustard is disgusting."

"Have you ever even tried mustard before?"

He opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, then closed it, apparently changing his mind. "I'm pretty sure I have. Once. Probably more. I don't like it, though, so why would I eat it?"

"Because you don't even know if you like it or not?"

"Well, I know I don't like it."

"Your taste changes over time. You might like it now."

"And what if I don't like it now?" he rivaled.

"Then you still won't like it. But, there's still a chance you might like it, so it's worth trying."

He narrowed his eyes at me, and seemed to be thinking very hard about something, then said, "Let me see your sandwich."

"Why?"

"I just want to see something." He held out his hand for it. I stared at his hand, then my sandwich, and reluctantly handed it over.

He inspected the square carefully, his brow puckered. He then brought it to his face and sniffed it delicately. His nose wrinkled. I expected him to then hand it back to me, but instead he took a big bite of it. He chewed contemplatively, and gave me my sandwich back.

I waited, expectantly for his verdict.

After thoroughly chewing, and swallowing, he finally said, "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

I beamed at him. "Isn't that what I said?"

"It is," he agreed.

We looked at each other for a moment, before he asked, "How bad is it?"

"How bad is what?" I asked.

"My eye."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed on not picking up on something so obvious. "Do you want an honest answer?"

He deliberated for a moment. "That's probably what's best. I'll know either way, anyway, though."

"It looks a lot worse," I said, with as much sympathy I could muster, to compensate for the blunt honesty.

"Knew it," he sighed. "Well, thanks for telling me."

I shrugged. And it occurred to me, and leaped out of my mouth, before much forethought, to say to Edward, "By the way, there's a rumor that you and Jasper got in a fight, because Alice was cheating on him with you." Ultimately, it kept his attention, and that was really all I wanted –was to talk to Edward, and not bore him.

"That's absurd. Me and Jasper didn't fight," he said, an odd expression on his face.

I noticed Alice walking up to our table, and lowered my voice to say, "I thought it was stranger that people said that you and Alice had some kind of affair."

She came to stand behind Edward, to listen in on our conversation. Edward seemed totally oblivious as to her presence.

"Not really. I guess word got out about our two-timing, torrid love affair," he deadpanned, with an entirely straight expression.

Alice's eyes bugged out, and her mouth gaped slightly, before fixing her expression into one of irritation and smacking the back of Edward's head with the folder she was holding.

Edward froze, and turned slowly. "A simple 'hi' would have been fine."

Alice ignored that. "If Jazz had heard you…"

"Of course he didn't hear me," Edward said, watching Jasper carefully for a moment. When satisfied that Jasper had not heard, he turned to Alice and smiled at her defiantly.

She gave him a pointed look, and walked around the table, to sit next to me.

Edward's apparent smugness drained from his face, and he said to her, very earnestly, "I'm really sorry about how I was acting this weekend."

She slowly lifted her eyes to his face. The look was deadly. "Would you still have apologized if Jasper hadn't given you the idea?"

"Jasper just gave me the black eye. I was going to apologize anyway."

"Har, har," Alice said, dryly.

"I'm sorry," Edward said again.

Alice turned to me, and asked, unexpectedly, "What's your input, Bella? Do you think I should forgive him?"

Edward nodded, with out saying anything, and Alice shushed him.

My cheeks felt hot. Why was she leaving this decision up to me? Her grim expression told me she was not interested in forgiving Edward just yet, but I didn't want to displease Edward either. I went the uncommitted route, and said, "Sure?"

She pursed her lips and Edward smiled, unevenly.

She rummaged in her purse for her wallet, and took out a penny. "Call it," she said to Edward.

He seemed to weigh his options for a couple seconds before deciding on "Heads."

She flicked the coin up into the air, and caught it in her hand, and turned it over, onto the back of her other hand, her palm still covering it. She carefully lifted her palm, and cursed. "It's heads," she said. "I forgive you."

"It was only a matter of time anyway."

"Right. Because you're so damned irresistible."

"Stop, you're making me blush."

It was weird being able to study Edward so freely. His eyes snapped in my direction, every so often, but as long as I didn't interject, or say anything, he paid attention to Alice. There was something off about his whole jokey-confident charade. The best comparison I can come up with is the difference between Sweet 'n' Low, and sugar. They both have generally the same flavor, and look pretty similar, but Sweet 'n' Low just doesn't compare to sugar. It leaves a strange sort of flavor on the back of your tongue, and upon closer inspection, it looks merely _similar_ to sugar, but it's certainly not the same. It's only an attempted copy of the real thing.

Edward's confidence and humor could have been mistaken for the real thing, but upon closer inspection it seemed very superficial –fake.

And the more I thought about what Jessica had said about Edward, the more sure I was that his attitude toward me, must have had something to do with his girlfriend from last year, and whatever happened with her. Maybe, it was because I'd confronted him, and no one else had, that was why he changed so easily. It still made little sense, because I didn't really have any idea what direction Jessica's story was supposed to take. But at least it helped me piece together_ some_ things.

The bell rang then, and everyone collectively grumbled, and rose to their feet. I was not among them, in their grousing. In truth, I was cheered at the prospect of being able to further observe Edward, in biology.

I sat down in my seat, being one of the first people to arrive, besides a couple people talking in the far back of the class. I watched for Edward to arrive, as people filed in. Mike waved and smiled at me. A group of girls came in giggling over something. Angela smiled slightly toward me. But not Edward. He didn't show until ten minutes after the late bell had rung and Mr. Banner had already started his lecture on ribosome, or lysosome, or something. I wasn't really paying attention.

Mr. Banner gave him a dark look, but continued on without comment. Edward sat down next to me, quietly without looking in my direction.

His face was stony, and odd looking, in comparison to his put on of confidence during lunch. I wished to know what it was that went on inside his head. The fact that he felt the need to put on a false show for everyone made it all the worse.

Edward did not look in my direction even once in the entire hour. His eyes remained firmly ahead. I couldn't tell if it was just the lighting, but he looked very sad to me. Hopeless, really. But the hardness of his features made me sure he was determined, regardless of his hopelessness.

Was I over-analyzing? And if I wasn't, what did that even mean? Hopeless determination –did such a thing exist? Such a conflicted emotion it sounded, I almost wanted to feel it for myself. I wanted to know what gave Edward that expression.

The bell rang, startling me, out of my thoughts. Edward rose quickly to his feet, and grabbed his backpack off the floor.

"Wait –Edward," I said hurriedly, afraid he would leave before I got the chance to say what I wanted to say.

He pivoted slowly. "Yeah?" he answered, smiling a smile that didn't look entirely warm.

"I was just –just wondering if we were working on the project after school, today." I bit my lip, in my anxiety for his answer.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "No, I have work today."

"Oh, okay. Sorry," I said meekly.

He frowned, confused, and said, "You don't have to be sorry about anything. Later, Bella." He walked –jogged, more like- out of the classroom, before I got to my feet.

Mike tried talking to me again, during PE, but I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts. He was really a nice guy, but today was not the day for him to be vying for my attention.

I spent the period trying to figure out the most likely out come to what had happened between Edward and his girlfriend. From what I could infer from the story, it had been some kind of messy break up. _A _very _messy break up, at that. _Some how, though, I knew that couldn't be it. People always got over things like that –they bounced back. Especially boys. They aren't quite so attached to their emotions, as are girls. Unless he really loved her. I hated guessing, and jumping to conclusions though, when the truth was just within my grasp. I just had to do some snooping. The idea, though, of snooping for some horror story from Edward's past made me feel disgusted with myself. How pathetic was that? I thought I was above the morbid curiosity to know rumors, and other people's business. I always had been. Why now?

I knew why _now. _I just couldn't bear to completely admit it to myself. Because I'm just that kind of person.

I met Edward at his car. He seemed to be retreating within himself again, though he smiled –it was a strained smile, but a smile nonetheless- and bade me goodbye, as I got out of his car, once he dropped me off.

After I was safely inside the house, I was frantic to find something to occupy my mind other than what I had been spending the whole day thinking about. I rushed making dinner –spaghetti- to get to homework, so there would be little room for my mind to wander. Yet, even then, I managed to find some time to think back on it all, and wonder: what happened to Edward?

oO0Oo

I waited on my porch, today, too riddled with anxiety to just wait in the house, as per usual. I was surprised this morning to see the pavement and road slicked over with a sheen of ice. Mounds of slush lined the street. I'd never seen slush, or frost before. Everywhere I'd ever lived had been too warm for this kind of weather. I shuddered, and hugged my arms across my chest.

Edward's car then, came around the corner. He drove a little to fast for my comfort –something I'd never gotten the chance to notice while in his car. He pulled into our driveway, and opened his door, and got out.

My original jitters this morning stemmed from my worry that Edward would go back to being cold and distant. I really didn't know what was keeping him from doing just that, other than my plea for his attention. Which, now that I thought back on it, was pathetic and embarrassing. Yet, Edward smiled at me, a slow, false smile, and walked up the steps of the porch, to meet me.

"You shouldn't drive so fast," I advised, as he approached.

He turned as if I were talking to someone other than himself –to see whom it was I was talking to. "I don't drive fast," he argued, with a cheery grin.

I squinted at him. He was standing rather close, only one step down from me. If he took another step up, he'd be pressed right against me. The thought made my face ignite. "I beg to differ. You should be especially careful, with your injury and all."

"Nonsense. I'm in perfect condition to drive," he said, taking a step back.

"That wasn't what I was insinuating, but now that you mention it, I doubt you are." I wondered, could he even see out of his horridly swollen and bruised eye?

"What _were _you insinuating?" he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side.

"That you don't want to get in a car accident, and get any more injuries than you already have."

He laughed. I don't know at _what, _but he laughed, good, and hard, and only said afterwards, "We should get going –we're going to be late."

A thin, cynical curve of the lips lingered on his face, as he turned away from me, and strode toward his car.

I scowled at his back, as I walked down the front steps. I took one more step, but my heel slid against some ice, and I nearly fell, but managed, to regain balance, somehow. I cannot explain how I did, but that's what happened, I swear on my grand mother's grave.

"Are you okay?" Edward said to me, a look of honest concern on his face, for a brief moment, before lapsing into a bland smile.

My neck suddenly felt sweltering hot, as well as my face. "Yeah. I'm fine." Of course, my clumsiness had to show itself, now, while he was right there. I tried not to die of humiliation, but I felt I was losing that battle.

He walked toward, me and said, "I was about to say you should be careful, of the ice." He extended an open hand, his palm facing up. I looked down at it, then back up at him, questioningly.

He held his hand up a little bit more. "Go on –take it. Black eyes aren't contagious," he encouraged.

I hesitantly extended my own hand, and placed it in his. Pulses of energy passed through our hands. His hand was warm, and dry, and his fingertips were hard, in the back of my hand. And he smiled warmly, and his face cracked once more, and for a brief moment he looked infinitely vulnerable. He turned away from me, again, however, and led the way to his car.

Once safely situated in his car, I noticed his expression was deeply perturbed. It was black, and drained, and shaken. I tried not to look at him too much today while we drove. My curiosity was downright shameful, in retrospect.

In lieu of unabashedly ogling Edward, I opted for looking out my window –though, it wasn't with out some mental effort. I took note of how completely different Forks was from Arizona. The unpredictable weather, to the very scenery was a complete one-eighty from the arid burn of the sun, and cracked, dry landscape that was, and always would be my home. I felt a rush of nostalgia at the thought. It wouldn't be the same though, with out my harebrained mother. I didn't know if it would mean much, without her.

Suddenly, we were parked, and at school, and Edward was getting out of the car. I shook my head, to alert myself, and opened my door.

"We still have a bit of time before the bell rings," he informed me, from where he stood at the back fender of his car.

I closed my door. "Okay," I said.

"What do you have first period?" he asked me.

I was about to respond, but I was cut off by a loud screech. We both snapped our heads toward the other end of the parking lot. There, a dark blue van was sliding across the frosted ground, right toward another car. My eyes widened, and I jumped at the deafening crash, when the van collided, into the other.

"Holy shit," Edward gasped.

I turned to look at him. His eyes were wide and his mouth agape. He looked completely stunned.

My heart hammered hard in my chest. "Should we go help?" I murmured, at seeing other people rushing to the scene.

"I'll call nine-one-one," he said, taking out his cell phone. "Probably someone already did, though –but just to be safe."

I began to walk toward the car wreck. It appeared they'd gotten whoever was driving the van, out of the car. The front of his car was completely smashed into the side of the other car, and didn't look like it was becoming unattached any time soon. People were shouting, and running about yelling, and some even crying.

Someone tapped my shoulder, and I expected it to be Edward, but it was to my surprise, Mike.

"Oh, Mike. Hi," I said, uneasily. "Did you see the crash?"

"Just barely," he said, grimly.

"Do you know who was in it?"

"Yeah. Tyler was."

"Who?"

"Tyler Crowley," he clarified, as if this were answer enough.

"Oh, him," I said, as if I knew any better whoever that was. "Do you know if he's okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be okay, from what I can see. He's alive, at least," he told me.

"Oh," I said. "Good."

We stood there, and Edward approached us. "I just got a busy signal," he said. "They must have already got the call."

Mike started at Edward's voice, and turned to face him. "Hey, Edward," he said awkwardly.

Edward's eyes darted between Mike and myself, and I wonder what he was thinking. The look in his eyes made my stomach knot, uncomfortably. I had the feeling, it was the wrong idea he was getting. "Newton," he returned curtly.

"Mike was just telling me that, Tim –or whoever that was in the crash- is alive."

"Tyler," Mike corrected.

"Right."

Edward sighed. "That's good news, I guess."

An ambulance and a police car pulled into the parking lot, their lights flashing and causing general commotion. Mike said he'd see me later, stole a glance at Edward and walked off, toward the crowd surrounding the ambulance.

I began to follow him, but Edward grabbed my sleeve, stopping me. "Wait here," he said, his eyes never leaving the seen.

I raised my eyebrows. "Why?"

"Angela broke her leg in sixth grade, before school, on the playground there, and we ended up getting the whole day off, because everyone wanted to visit her at the hospital," he explained. He glanced down at me, and smiled crookedly. "I'm thinking we'll get that opportunity again.

"You can't be serious."

"Trust me." His eyes sparked devilishly. "I am."

"You are honestly using a _car crash _–in which someone could have _died _as an excuse to play hooky? Really, Edward?"

"Really, Bella."

I crossed my arms, and watched the EMT's push Tom's gurney into the back of the ambulance. Tyler's, I mean. Whatever. "That seems unethical."

"Just for the record, Swan, Crowley is one of the least ethical assholes in the entirety of Forks."

"Ever heard of the saying 'two wrongs don't make a right,' Masen?" I asked him, playing along.

"I have, as a matter of fact. I just choose to ignore it."

I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. "I can't skip school," I said.

He sighed, deeply. "Why?"

"Because, one, my dad is a cop, two, we're going to get caught, and most importantly, three, my dad is a cop."

"The Chief isn't going to catch us. I promise."

I felt my resolve waver at _us_. I liked the sound of _us _a bit too much. "I don't know…" I trailed off, uncertainly.

"Look –I'll make up your mind for you," he said, suddenly taking my shoulders in both of his hands, and pushing me toward his car.

"This is highly unnecessary," I said, irately, since I felt he was pushing me faster than I could really walk, and all.

"Oh, it's necessary," he said. "I'll be bored if I skip alone."

I scowled, though felt secretly cheered that he chose me, of all the rotten people, to skip with. Though, I had the feeling it was entirely because I was there, next to him.

I tried to appear casual, getting into his car, though I couldn't stop myself from looking over my shoulder, to see if anyone had caught us.

Edward caught my eye, as he started his car, and laughed at my expression. "Other people are going to do the same thing, Bella. Don't worry about it."

"Do you skip often, Edward?" I demanded, bristled by his slight ribbing.

He grinned impishly. "Not me."

"Then how do you know we won't get caught?"

"Because, I do," was all he said. "Now, _relax._"

I nibbled my lip.

Edward drove.

I tapped my foot. Knit my fingers together, then undid them.

"Where are we going?" I blurted out.

"That's the beauty of skipping school –you don't have to have a destination."

I gave a look to Edward's smiling profile. "So what are we going to do then? Just go home?"

He grimaced at that. "Not to _my _home; I don't want to see what my mom would do to me, if she caught me, coming home now."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I doubt Charlie would be too pleased to catch me."

His brow furrowed, thinking. "I have an idea," he said, after a moment of thought.

"What is it?"

He only said, "You'll see."

I pressed my lips together, in agitation, but chose to trust him.

We drove for about fifteen minutes, over a bridge, passed a wood mill, and down a road that snaked between giant, ancient redwoods. Edward finally stopped across the street from a deserted park.

It felt colder here than in town. My breath twisted away from my mouth, white, and smoke-like, and my shoulders felt stiff with the cold.

Edward met me, on my side of his car. He waited, next to me, for something. I don't know what.

"Jazz, Em, and me used to come here during the winter," he said. He looked down at me.

"How come?" I asked, perplexed.

He began to cross the street, and I quickly followed after him. "I'll show you," he said.

Upon coming closer to the park there were wide flat silver pools under the looming trees. "The water from the sprinklers freezes over. We used to play hockey on them."

I furrowed my brow. "I don't think I can play hockey."

He smiled wryly. "I wasn't going to suggest it."

I turned to him. "Were you just implying that I'm clumsy?"

"Do you want an honest answer?"

"No."

"Then, no, I wasn't."

I cracked a smile. "What do you plan on doing here, then?"

"I'm not really sure. I just felt like coming here. It's quiet."

It _was _quiet. Nothing penetrated the silence. There was no wind to stir the giant trees. No birds calling and singing. Just a profound quiet, like the fog that hovered and swirled just above the ground. It was breathtaking, once I really took it in.

"Thanks for taking me here," I said quietly, afraid to shatter the silence. I slowly turned my head to look at him, and he was already looking at me.

A corner of his mouth twitch up. "No problem."

We stood there looking at each other, because when you get caught in a gaze like that, neither of you can look away first. His coppery eyebrows were straight, and determined over his green eyes. The shadows under them spoke of a thousand sleepless nights. And his black eye looked painful enough that I could almost feel it.

Edward tore his eyes away first. I felt my face grow warm, in a sort of embarrassment I'd been feeling a lot lately.

Edward began to walk down the gentle slope, through the trees, and I followed suit. "Where are you going?"

Edward turned around, and started walking backwards. He smiled, cockily. "You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm sorry," I apologized quickly, my embarrassment swelling.

He chuckled. "Don't be sorry. I was just making an observation." He turned back around, so he was facing forward, and continued into the wood.

He stopped at the edge of one of the puddles. He waited for me, to stand next to him there. I was surprised by him taking my hand. His fingers were cold on the back of my hand, and my heart pounded in my chest.

"You ready?" he asked me, holding up our intertwined hands. He looked more handsome than I'd seen him, even with the shiner. His cheeks had a flush from the cold, the light that eked from between the trees glinted off his bronze hair, and something about the set of his face made him look genuinely happy.

"Ready for what?"

He put one foot forward, and tapped his foot on the surface of the frozen over puddle. "To walk across this."

"Why would we do that?"

"Does there have to be a reason for everything?"

I was stymied by the question. "I guess not," I said uncertainly.

"Excellent," he said cheerfully, and took a step forward, and pulling me along as he went.

The thin layer of ice was solid, and slippery, and my foot slid across the ice, as soon as I stepped on it. Edward's hand moved up to my elbow, and held tightly. "Whoa –careful," he said.

"I'm fine," I hurried to say. "I'm just –just –clumsy."

He laughed. "Don't be embarrassed. I wish I was as clumsy as you," he told me.

"Very funny," I muttered, pulling my elbow out of his grasp.

He reached for my arm, to regain his hold, but I stepped away from him. "I wasn't joking," he said going after me, and even slipping some on the ice himself.

"Yeah, right." I lunged away from his hand again, and lost my footing completely, thus causing me, to land hard on my backside.

I squinched my eyes tightly shut, and waited for the rush of humiliation to pass. I felt like the skin on my face should have burned off what with the intense blush I felt on my face.

At realizing that I was not in fact going to disappear, I slowly opened my eyes, and lifted them to Edward's face.

He hand a hand over his mouth, and I knew enough to know that he was obviously holding back a laugh. Until I guess he saw the expression on my face, because he dropped his hand and laughed out right.

I grit my teeth together, as I tried to pull myself to my feet. The ice was painfully cold on my palms. Edward offered his hand, but I ignored it.

"Come on -don't be mad," he pleaded. "If that was me, you would have laughed too."

I wiped my hands off on the sides of my jeans, and slowly began making my way to the other side of the puddle. "I'm not mad."

"You _are _mad."

"_No_, I'm _not._"

"Bella-"

"What?" I turned around to face him, careful to pick up my feet, and not slide them.

He looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry for laughing at you." His voice was so apologetic, and his expression was so sad and sincere. I didn't really have any choice in my answer.

I glowered at him. "You're lucky I'm such a push over."

"I'll take that as an 'I forgive you'." He beamed, and reclaimed my hand, and we walked the rest of the way across the puddle.

oO0Oo

We walked across all the frozen puddles we could. They must have stretched for miles, but I think we only made it a mile or so out, before I started complaining about how numb and cold everything felt ("I cannot feel my _toes, _Edward! My _toes_! I'm clumsy enough when my toes have feeling in them –it's a miracle I'm even upright."). Edward never fell, like I had, but he stumbled and slipped, so that helped me confirm, that he wasn't _that _perfect. We laughed a lot, at our combined clumsiness, and how cold it was. We doubled back and Edward promised hot sandwiches and steaming cups of coffee, to encourage me, and himself, I think.

Edward drove us to a little stand, with a few picnic tables on the side of a long, empty stretch of highway, with tables placed strategically adjacent to it.

"How do you know about all these places?" I asked him, as we pulled back the wax paper on our sandwiches. Edward sat across from me. He emptied a packet of sugar into his coffee.

He shrugged. "Living in a place like Forks, you have to go after your entertainment. It's not that accessible."

I took a bite of the sandwich. It was hot, and buttery, and exactly what I'd been craving.

"Tell me about Arizona."

I swallowed, and looked up from my sandwich, which I'd been admiring. "What do you want to know?"

He contemplated this carefully. "What do you miss about Arizona?"

"I miss a lot of things. I miss the warmth. I miss the anonymity, of being one in a million. I miss my house. I miss my mom." I had to look away from him then, unable to look at him when I felt this emotional.

"What's your mom like?" he asked.

I sighed. "Why?" I felt wary, which was more of a reflex, than anything else. I wasn't used to talking to anyone about anything personal, like this.

He shrugged again. "I'm just curious. Don't feel like I'm pressuring you –if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."

I pursed my lips. "She's very… eccentric, I suppose you could say. I think she just lives impulsively –like, just with total reckless abandon. One week she's a kindergarten teacher, and the next week she's in a tap dancing class. She married this guy ten years younger than her. I've always felt like I have to take care of her." I lifted my gaze to Edward's intent face. "She's my best friend."

His eyes narrowed very slightly. He sipped his coffee, and added another pack of sugar to it. "You wish you were still with her, don't you?"

"Yes, and no. Charlie and I get along really well, and I love him too. I just don't know how I'm going to get over living in Forks. I don't know. It's a lot of things. But, I think I'd start feeling intrusive if I moved with my mom to Florida."

He nodded slowly. "Why did your mom move to Florida?"

"Because Phil –that's her husband- is in minor league baseball and he got into a team there. She wanted to be with him, so she went with him."

"And she sent you here." An assumption, not a question.

I sat a little straighter, indignant. "She didn't _send _me here. I sent myself."

He finished chewing his mouthful of sandwich, before next asking, "Why? You hate it here."

"I don't hate it here. I just find it unbearable."

He rolled his eyes. "Answer the question, Swan."

"Because I wanted to let my mom have time with Phil. I just felt like I was crowding them."

Edward's eyes were appraising. "That's a pretty mature move, for a teenager."

I smiled slightly at the compliment. "I've never really felt like my age." I frowned down at my half-eaten sandwich. "I can never tell if it's a good or bad thing."

"You make it sound like a bad thing," said Edward.

I glanced up at him. "It alienates you, you know? It makes it hard to be around other people. I don't even know if that has anything to do with my maturity level. I think it's just me. I'm just… weird." It felt stranger than I thought it would be to admit all this to him. But it also felt good, because I'd always held this information in. I just then realized, that I'd never had an outlet for my insecurities before. It felt sort of liberating. Especially since I didn't feel as if Edward would ridicule me, for what I was saying. His expression was very serious, and sort of sad.

"No one should alienate you, Bella. You're not weird. You're just a hell of a lot smarter and a lot more mature than everyone else," he told me.

I stared at him. "Thank you, Edward. That means a lot to me."

His smile was weak. "Don't mention it."

We polished off our sandwiches, and the bitter coffee, in relative silence after that. It was already two when we got back to his car.

"What are you doing this week?" I asked him, as he drove. We were friends, right? Friends ask those kinds of questions, don't they?

"Uh –I don't know. Besides our project, I should probably start training for this ten-K race I'm thinking about doing, he said vaguely.

An idea hit me, and it was extraordinarily appealing, purely because it gave me an opportunity to spend more time with Edward. I said it completely on impulse, and instantly wished I hadn't: "Hey, I think I'm doing that race too."

He raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? The one for lung disease?"

"Yeah," I said. "That one."

"That's cool," he said, smiling. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it before, but now that you're doing it too, I might as well."

"Yeah," I said, uncertainly. "But –uh –look, I've never done any races before. Would you –do you think you could help me out, with how to train?" I suppressed a grimace at myself. _Are you kidding yourself? _

"Sure –no problem," he agreed immediately. "We'll train together." He smiled at me, and I smiled back, a bit meekly.

I mulled this over for a moment. "I feel like you're doing all these things for me. Helping me with the race, and being my personal chauffeur and all. I should do something for you."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Is there anything that you need help with?"

His brow knit as he thought. "Well, are there any interesting special talents you have?"

I considered this. "Not that I can think of."

"Come on, Bella. You _have _to have something you're good at. Have some pride."

I snorted. "I can cook pretty decently."

"That's perfect, because I suck at cooking. You can teach me how to cook."

"So, is that a deal?"

"It's a deal," he confirmed.

oO0Oo

Edward took me to Charlie's. It was only two-thirty when we got there, so, he hung around for a while. We watched some TV. He dominated the remote control, flipping constantly between channels. We ended up watching a Jerry Springer episode about two morbidly obese cousins, who were engaged, but one of the cousins, was cheating on the other with a midget of the same gender, causing all kinds of strangely entertaining uproar.

Edward asked if we could work on our project some other time this week –he said he wasn't feeling well. And he did look kind of wan, and very tired. He went home then, at three.

I went up to my room, after showing him to the door, and bidding him good-bye.

I felt momentarily disappointed that I hadn't really been able to procure any information from Edward about whatever had changed him, or what had happened with his girlfriend. I hadn't really expected to, but still, the disappointment was there.

And though Edward hadn't shared much, if anything about himself, I'd never had such a supremely satisfying day in my entire life. Maybe it was because of how earnestly curious Edward seemed to be about me. Maybe it was just being with some one, and being able to relax and goof around with someone my own age. Maybe it was getting those insecurities off my chest. Maybe it was being able to openly lament over not being with my mother. Maybe it was all of those things.

All I knew for sure, was that already I missed Edward's presence, and was deeply anxious to see him once again.

**A/N: There is something **_**very **_**satisfying about Edward being punched in the face. I don't know what it is. **

**I'm sorry this is so late. I was hoping to post this by Monday, at the latest, but then we had finals this whole week, and it just wasn't going to work out. **

**Also, I'm just curious, but does anyone actually listen to the playlist? **

PLAYLIST: http : / / view (dot) playlist (dot) com / 12842915339


	9. chapter 9

**AN: If anyone has tried logging in to Fanfiction in the last couple days, you'll know why this chapter didn't get posted until today. **

**Chapter 9: Don't Ask Me To Explain**

**Edward**

I lied to Bella. I should have felt bad, maybe, but I didn't. What I mean by that is that I didn't have work after school on Monday. I considered going, just so I didn't feel like I was lying completely to her. Probably Sam would have had a job for me –even if he wouldn't have given me any kind of money for the work. But I just ended up going home, and lying in bed, and thinking.

And then I lied again. The next day. I probably should have just said I had work again, because I actually had work on Tuesday. But I really didn't feel good and I worried she'd get suspicious. I don't know why she would be suspicious about me having work two days in a row. That's normal right? To have work two days in a row? At the time I didn't think so, for whatever reason. I just kind of freaked really.

Here's why: 1) I'd spent more time with Bella in the last two days than I probably could handle in an entire life span. 2) I wasn't lying even _nearly _as much as I should have been. As I normally would've if it weren't Bella that I'd been spending all this time with. 3) I didn't feel entirely comfortable not lying as much as I should have been lying, but 4) It felt good to not be lying so much for once.

It's that last one that really did it for me. When you spend all your time lying, and faking it, it feels unnatural to be doing anything that's whole, and real. It's especially difficult to deal with, when you only realize that you've been honest and truthful, after you've spent the whole day going about doing just that. It's sort of like stepping out of your house, getting into your car, then driving to school, only to realize, once you get there, you're stark naked.

So, there I was at work, back behind my wall, putting on a nice fake smile. It felt right. I tried not to think about how much righter it felt holding Bella's hand, or laughing with Bella, or listening to Bella talk, or just being with Bella. Mostly because I knew I was probably just confused, and if I actually dared to entertain the notion of anything happening between me and Bella, then I was just setting myself up for all kinds of … well, I didn't know exactly, but I wasn't ready to think about a purely hypothetical future.

Jasper and Emmett were sitting on some benches in the lobby at the theater, by the time I got there. I pretended I didn't see them, but I think they knew I saw them. They eventually went to watch a movie, but apparently the movie hadn't been any good, or they were tired of waiting around, because they left. Or so I thought. At the end of my shift, in a continued effort to not think about Bella, I put my headphones on, and turned up the volume until it hurt. Which was why I thought I was being mugged, or something, when Emmett grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me into an alleyway betweena Chinese take-out and a dingy looking coffee shop.

In my panicked state, I twisted sharply, and my hands tightened into fists. I shoved Emmett away (mostly because I hadn't realized it was Emmett), then shoved him again (because I realized it was Emmett). "Jesus," I said.

He pulled down my headphones, with a smirk. "Maybe I wouldn't have had to do that if you hadn't been busy blasting the shit out of your eardrums."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What do you want?"

"Wow, we're awfully hospitable today, wouldn't you say, Jazz?"

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Exceptionally so."

"Can we get on with it?" I cut in, before Emmett could make another sarcastic observation about my temperament. Telling the truth is a tiring thing, let me tell you.

Emmett seemed merely amused. Which shouldn't have been anything short of expected, but I was feeling too irritated to care whether it was to be expected or not. "Get on with what?"

"You're interrogation, or whatever the hell it is you so apparently need to talk to me about!" I exploded.

Jasper and Emmett looked at each other then at me, then each other again, and laughed.

I sighed, and began to continue my walk to my car.

Emmett wasted no time, this time, when he put one heavy hand on each shoulder and shoved me into the brick wall. His hands remained on my shoulders and his expression was more serious now. "Chill, will you?"

"Let go of me," I responded.

"No."

"What do you want?" I asked, almost desperately now. I don't know why I was bothering to get all desperate, but suddenly I just really wanted to go home. And I didn't think it necessarily had anything to do with the on coming interrogation I could tell Emmett was after.

"I'll tell you if you fucking relax," Emmett said slowly. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired." I only said that because it was true, but mostly because any time I ever mentioned anything about my insomnia, everyone would just ease up, and leave me alone. They would always apologize, and look at me with pity, but as long as they left me alone, I could deal with those repercussions.

Emmett scowled at me. "So is everyone else, Ed."

I sighed. "What do you want," I repeated, with no inflection.

"Firstly, I don't think it's too much to ask to talk to you. I mean, Jesus Christ on a bike, Ed. I figure we've been friends long enough. Secondly, you've been spending all your free time with Bella, which leads to Thirdly, I know you spent your entire day with Bella, because we saw you leaving the parking lot with her, so _ha._"

I began to protest, to deny that I'd done any such thing, but Emmett spoke over my words. "I don't want to hear about it, okay? Emergency Meeting -my house. You ditch, I end you, got it?"

Emergency Meetings aren't really as dire as they sound. Basically, any time Emmett wants to discuss anything he dubs as "serious" (which usually is anything but) he calls for an Emergency Meeting. These Emergency Meetings also usually include Alice and Rosalie, but also, usually end up consisting of only whomever is there when Emmett calls an Emergency Meeting. Meaning, just Jasper and me. These Emergency Meetings only ever take place at Emmett's house. It's something that you can assume without asking, Hey where are we holding this meeting anyway? That's really all anyone needs to know about Emergency Meetings. That they're not "emergencies", but more like forced gatherings, and are entirely orchestrated by Emmett.

I didn't attempt ditching the Emergency Meeting. No one ever wants to go to them, but their inevitable, so you might as well face them. Plus, it wasn't like I was interested in receiving _another _black eye. I only have two of them. Eyes, that is. Not that was necessarily what Emmett meant by ending me. I just figured that that was probably going to be part of it.

I parked across the street from Emmett's house. Jasper and Emmett were already waiting on the front lawn for me. Usually they would have waited inside Emmett's house, but I had a feeling that they were there because they didn't think I was going to come.

Emmett's house is practically bigger than Rosalie's. The difference is that it serves as a practicality, and that though it is big, it's quite modest and homey looking, whereas hers is ostentatious and more of a fantasy than any place you could consider a home.

Just so this is straightened out now, Emmett is the youngest of his six siblings. Five of his siblings are girls, and the oldest –who doesn't live at home anymore- is also a boy (Or man. Guy. Whatever. He's engaged, anyway, and in graduate school, so I guess Ricky –Richard is his name, but no one calls him that- is really a man). Emmett's dad works at one of the many lumber mills native to Forks, and his mom works at the Bank until four. Rather than coddling Emmett, him being the youngest, they're shorter with him. Not that I blame them. I can't imagine him being an easy kid to raise. I think they were really just tired after six other kids.

Anyway. So, Emmett and Jasper were waiting for me in front of Emmett's house. I walked over to them, shoulders squared, and lips tight. I could do this. It was a possibility. It wouldn't be too hard to just BS my whole way through it. That's what I was trying to convince myself of, anyway.

Emmett tipped his chin up by way of greeting, and headed across his lawn, into his house. Jasper gave me a sympathetic look, put a hand on my shoulder, then went after Emmett. I was last to follow.

Emmett stopped in the kitchen to argue with his sister, get a jug of Sunny D, and glare at me when I smiled at his sister (long story short, when Kim –that's the sister I was only being polite to- came home from her freshman year of college the year before last, she was suddenly, not just nice looking, but absolutely smoking hot. Emmett noticed that I was practically drooling at the sight of her, and had a few none to kind words for me on the matter, like, "Goddamn it, Ed, I will tear your goddamn balls off, put them in a blender, and feed them to my dog, if you so much as _glance _at her the wrong way, again, you hear?"), before leading us the rest of the way to his room.

There was virtually no surface available to sit on, because his room was littered with clothes, and wrappers, and God knows what else. This was no new thing; his room was usually in various states of complete disarray. The only thing that _never _changed was the heady smell of sweat, and Axe. We've had enough Emergency Meetings, however, to not really notice it anymore –the mess, or the smell.

Emmett turned on his heel, so he was facing both Jasper, and me and clapped his hands together, as if to signal the commencement of the meeting. "So, tell me, Ed, what did you spend your day doing?" His expression was accusatory. From that point forward, I knew there would be no easy way out.

"I was with Bella," I started slowly. It was probably best, I thought, to get the hardest part of this out of the way first. Ultimately, this was the only information Emmett really wanted to get out of me, anyway. At least, that was what I was hoping.

Emmett exchanged some kind of look with Jasper, and fixed me with a determined expression. That hadn't been exactly what I'd been aiming for, as far as reactions go, to my confession. Clearly, he didn't realize what a feat it had been to admit anything pertaining to Bella. Especially out loud. "What did you do with _Bella_?" It seemed to me that he'd emphasized Bella's name.

"Nothing really," I lied, with a one shouldered shrug. I knew I was really just trying to downplay how much I'd really enjoyed being with Bella. In all honesty, I hadn't had such a genuinely good time in a while. It wasn't like my life was so painfully boring that I never enjoyed myself, at all, after everything with Tanya, but it was always filtered, and screened. With Bella, it had miraculously not even occurred to me, that I wasn't filtering or screening anything. It seemed too personal to admit to.

Emmett was already visibly irritated. He clenched his fists and scowled at me, not unlike a four-year-old that had been told, no, he could not get the toy he wanted. "Is there anyway that you _won't _totally bullshit this entire thing? What can I say, Ed, to make you more comfortable? What can _I _do?" His aggressively mocking tone set something off inside me. It was stupid, and I should have just kept calm, but I didn't.

"Why do you even give a shit, Emmett?" I demanded –yelled, really. "Why are you wasting everyone's time with this?"

"With what?" he asked me, daring me to take that step over the boundaries, of being mad, and being unforgivably offensive on top of that. "What am I wasting everyone's time with?"

I was really about to tell Emmett what he was wasting everyone's time with. I'd probably have felt really stupid for it later. That's why I think Jasper, stepped between us and said, "Mother of God, shut the hell up."

Emmett and I shut up.

He turned his head to give us both exasperated expressions. "You two are filled with so much hot air, it's retarded." He took a step back, when he was sure neither Emmett nor I were going to do anything we'd regret. He still had a withering glower on his face. "Can we just get this meeting over with, with out all the PMS-y melodrama?"

"Gladly, if Ed, here would be willing to calm down, for about five seconds –or just enough so we could accomplish something," Emmett muttered.

I wanted to retort, because I wasn't being even nearly as unreasonable as Emmett's immediately antagonizing attitude. I didn't retort though, because that wouldn't really accomplish anything.

Emmett took a deep breath, at seeing I wasn't going to argue with him, and asked again, "What did you do with Bella?

I took a deep breath too. "We ended up going to that park we used to go to, with the frozen puddles. And then we got lunch. And then we went back to her house, and watched TV. And that's it."

Both Jasper and Emmett now seemed to be scrutinizing me a bit too closely for what I would think would be anyone's comfort level. "What?" I finally blurted out.

Emmett spoke first. "Did you have a good time?" He posed his question very thoughtfully, as if he were handpicking each word, to see if it sounded the way he wanted it too.

"Yes," I said, wary myself of how my answer might come off.

Emmett nodded to himself slowly, as if I'd confirmed something for him. Jasper was still studying me intently.

"So, are we done now?" I asked, edging toward the door.

"No one said we were finished," Emmett said, in a controlled voice.

"What else is there to talk about?"

"Only _plenty_," Emmett snapped. "Wait a second, will you?"

I paused, with one hand on the doorjamb. "Okay," I said. "What is it, then, that's left to talk about?"

"Aren't you going to ask what everyone else did while you were frolicking about with Swan?"

I waited for him to tell me, but it seemed like he really expected me to ask, so I said, "What did you do?"

"I'm glad you asked," Emmett said, cheerfully, as if I had asked of my own volition. "We had an epic snowball fight to the death."

"Oh," I said. "Cool."

He was still looking at me with an expectant verging on impatient expression, so I said, "Who won?"

Emmett raised his hand and Jasper said, "I did." They looked at each other.

"_I _won," Emmett stipulated.

"No, you didn't," Jasper disagreed. "I distinctly remember winning."

Emmett opened his mouth, to yell something back at Jasper, but I quickly interrupted asking, "How did you even have a snow ball fight? There's not even that much snow."

Emmett answered, saying, "Well, yeah, but when we ran out of good snow, we just used pine cones."

"What about Rose and Alice?" I asked, thinking this was probably where Emmett would have directed my questioning next.

"They did something. I don't know. Saw a movie." Emmett shrugged.

"Alice went with Angela to the hospital and Rose went to Port Angeles with Liv and Karen," Jasper corrected. "Way to pay attention," he muttered under his breath.

"Go fuck yourself. I'm sorry that I don't pay attention to every little detail of Rosie's life, unlike you do for Alice. Sorry for having a little _goddamn dignity, you pussy whipped son of a bitch_!"

"Emmett McCarty!" Emmett's mom called. It wasn't just _called _really, but more like scolded. The door tore open. Mrs. McCarty glared up at her son. "What in the name of Sam Hill did I just hear come out your mouth?"

Emmett's mom is short and stout, with wildly curly hair, often twisted back in a bun. She grew up in rural Tennessee, hence her strong southern accent.

"Nothing, ma," Emmett said bashfully. "I was just telling Jasper he had a cool…" he looked at Jasper. "Shirt. I just said he had a cool shirt."

Mrs. McCarty put the laundry basket she'd had propped against her hip down on the floor, stomped over to Emmett, reached up and yanked his ear, so his head was down to her level.

"Ow," Emmett said.

"You listen to me, young man, and you listen good. Jasper is a guest, and we do not call _guests _'pussy whipped sons of bitches'. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Emmett said. "Loud and clear. Can you let go of my ear now? It's starting to lose it's feeling."

"Yes, _what_?"

"Yes, _ma'am."_

She let go of his ear, and turned to smile at Jasper and I.

"Hey, Mrs. McCarty," Jasper said, with a smug grin in Emmett's direction. "Thanks for defending my honor."

She laughed and Emmett scowled viciously at his mom's back.

Mrs. McCarty turned to me next and her eyes widened, and turned back to Jasper. "Now, what I need to understand is what could possibly make you do such a mean thing to Edward, here, when you're such a nice boy."

In case if you didn't pick up on that, it was the black eye she was referring to. My mom had obviously completely flipped when she saw me yesterday after school, and called Jasper's mom, who called Emmett's mom, who called my mom.

"It wasn't with out provocation," Jasper said.

Her eyes narrowed at my black eye. "I'm sure it wasn't." She left the room after that, but not before she warned Emmett that she better not hear him using language like he'd been using with us anymore. Emmett punched Jasper in the arm, and Jasper punched him in the chest.

"I'm going to go now," I announced.

"Yeah, fine," Emmett said. "See you tomorrow."

As I was leaving, I heard Emmett say, "I'd say we definitely accomplished a lot this Meeting." I wondered what it was that we'd accomplished.

oO0Oo

One thing Bella hadn't been doing me any favors for, was sleep. I mean, I never slept well, but sleep had been hard to come across especially since I acquiesced to Bella's demand. I didn't bother even getting into bed. I just felt impatient, and impatience never does you any favors either, when you want sleep. I walked around my house a lot, or watched TV, or went running. It was better to run, I thought, in the dark, and when everyone else was asleep. The aloneness was humbling.

Being awake all night, in some ways, better prepared me for the onslaught of Bella the following day. I could mental prep the whole night, so come morning I'd be ready to face Bella. But that only lasted as far as the drive to school, and even then, I was lucky if I could fake my way through a conversation with her. That's what it felt like anyway. The problem seemed to be, was that she saw too clearly who I was. I mean, she'd only known me for just over a week. I was curious as to how she did it –disturbing my carefully constructed everything.

Wednesday morning, I hadn't slept since the weekend at least, and I was trying to just keep my head together, more than make nice with Bella. This book I started reading, but never finished, had a main character that was an insomniac. He said that with insomnia everything wasn't real, or attainable. It was just a copy of a copy of a copy. Which is sort of true. For me, it gets even more watered down, and copied than that. You get to this level where you aren't even completely aware of what you're saying, the faces you're making, where you're even going. I was almost there Wednesday morning.

Bella smiled at me in greeting, when she answered her door. I smiled back at her, a loose smile that felt like I wasn't even smiling.

Sometimes before going to the door I would look up at her house, and try to tell from which window Bella slept behind. She struck me as the type of person who slept very soundly. When she'd answered the door, she looked tired, but not the kind of tired I was. It was the kind of tired that looked more like she wished she could just be asleep for that much longer to catch the end of her dream. Not really like she'd been up the whole night, nodding off momentarily, every now and then, only for your head to be jerked back, into wakefulness. The kind of tired where you don't sleep hardly a wink, looks sour and pale. Bella looked sleepy and flushed.

"You look tired," she observed accurately when we got into the car.

I began to answer, but was cut off my own yawn. "Oh," I just said, not having the energy to come up with an excuse.

I could feel her looking at me. She was always looking at me. I don't mean that in a conceited I-know-I'm-hot-shit way, but I could feel her staring at me literally all the time. I really actually liked that she paid such close attention to me. I would have spent more time looking at Bella probably, because she was fascinating and pretty, and I wanted her to tell me things like she had yesterday, and I wanted to read her sadness in her face, and tell her she wasn't crazy or weird for being different. It was weird wanting those things, because it wasn't just like I was regaining a semblance of normalcy, but it was something new entirely. That was the kind of scary part.

Upon arriving at school, we waited for the bell to ring by trading small talk. I tried to pretend like I wasn't nearly as exhausted as I was, but I think I fumbled a lot with the simple conversation about how much warmer it was today. She looked kind of concerned right before she turned, to head for class, and I felt a swell of satisfaction.

I slept a little during first and second periods, but the thing about sleeping in class, is that you keep getting whiplash from your head tilting back, then snapping back up, when you realize you're falling asleep. And even if that doesn't happen, you still are weirdly aware of people's voices floating around you in an indiscernible barrier between consciousness and unconsciousness.

During lunch, while I was in line for food Rosalie approached me. I hadn't noticed her for a moment. I jumped a little when I did.

She leveled me with a dark expression. "You look like shit," she said.

"I try."

I picked up the least soggy looking slice of pizza, and put it on my tray, and moved down. She followed. "Why have you been acting so weird lately? Not that you don't usually –it's just that it's been more than normal."

The thing about having a conversation with Rosalie, is that someone's self esteem is always being deflated. Not hers, of course. "I'm tired," I said.

"I'm not talking about that. I just mean, like how stubborn you're being with everyone. I thought you always talked to the guys or Alice about stuff."

"Not really," I admitted. I hadn't talked to anyone about personal stuff –which was the kind of stuff I assumed she was talking about- in a while.

One perfectly arched eyebrow rose. "Usually you're not such a prick about it, though. You've never had to be assaulted to snap out of it. Even then, Emmett keeps ranting about how annoying you're being."

"So they sent you, now, to talk to me, because I won't talk to anyone else," I said. I picked up an orange and set it on my tray, along with my pizza. My hand hovered between a bottle of water, and one of those mini-sized milk cartons. I picked milk. Probably I wouldn't drink it, anyway though, because I'd thrown a Red Bull into my backpack before I left for school. "I get it."

Rosalie ground out an irritated sigh. "No, I just came to talk to you, because I'm tired of hearing about how difficult you're being." She walked next to me, as we headed over to our table. Bella was already sitting there, with a sack lunch and an open book in front of her. Only a few other people were sitting at our table yet. "Sit next to her," she hissed. "Relax a little, for once."

I stopped in my tracks, my fingers tightening on the lunch tray. I looked down at my pizza. "What do you mean?"

"Edward, really," she muttered. "I don't want to have to say the words, but if I have to, I won't apologize, or regret it."

I only looked back at her. I wanted her to say the words.

She didn't disappoint. "Tanya is dead. Let her go already. Move on. Sit next to Bella." She pat me on the shoulder, and went to sit next to Karen who had just arrived.

I stood there, rooted to the spot. I felt weirdly liberated. As if I had needed her permission to do what I wanted. As if all I needed to do, was to ask. As if all that was needed, was for someone to say it – that Tanya was dead. I knew the feeling was momentary –an immediate, not permanent reaction to her honesty. It was enough, though, in a weird way, to get me to sit next to Bella.

Finally I lurched into motion. Bella had looked up at me, at that point, probably to see why I was standing there, staring at her in such a weird way. I smiled, sort of, and took the seat next to her. I hoped it would seem subtle, that she wouldn't notice that there was the whole rest of the table to sit at, aside from that particular spot. She was blushing, though, and I knew she'd noticed, even if she was staring intently at her book.

"What book are you reading?" I asked her.

She flipped her book, over, with her index finger marking her place, as if she'd forgotten the very book she was reading. "Jane Eyre," she answered.

"Is it good?" I asked her. She was already close to the finish, and I'd never seen her with the book before.

She nodded slowly, still inspecting the cover. It showed a romantic painting of a serious eyed, dark haired woman. "I like it very much so far. It's very… intriguing."

The fondness in her voice and expression made me curious. "What's it about?"

"It's about this girl who lives with her aunt and cousins. They're all pretty horrible to her, because they resent her uncle's preference of her, and they end up sending her to this orphanage, after this whole ordeal, where she's blamed for her cousin bullying her. She ends up happier, there I think, but earlier on there's this typhoid epidemic, and this clergyman there –Mr. Brocklehurst- is a total hypocrite and says all this nonsense about living in poverty, and with little food, and thin clothing, and cold living quarters –how it's more Christian to live like that, even though he lives in luxury and wealth. So, then, she goes there until she's sixteen, and works there until she's eighteen, and then she looks for work as a governess outside of Lowood –that's the school's name, I think. She's hired by this woman Alice Fairfax to work at Thornfield manor, to teach this French girl, Adele. After she's been there for a while, she's going for a walk one day, when this guy's horse slips on some ice, and she helps him. It turns out, that he's the owner of Thornfield. Long story short, they end up falling in love with each other over time, even though he's at least twenty years older than her. Plus, Adele is his bastard child from this love affair he had with this French woman. And he keeps his completely mad wife in his attic, and she keeps trying to kill him, and then Jane has to save him. She ends up leaving him because he's still married, even though they love each other. That's where I'm at right now." She glanced up at me, and seemed sheepish, for having spoken for so long.

"It sounds interesting," I said. "What did you say they guy's name was who Jane fell in love with?" I asked, knowing she hadn't said his name.

"Oh, um. It's Rochester. Mr. Rochester."

"He doesn't have a first name?"

Her face darkened. "No."

"That's kind of weird."

"Yeah, but a lot of books from this time period do that. Mr. Darcy, for example."

"He has a first name, though. It's something like William, isn't it?"

She seemed impressed. "Fitzwilliam, actually. How did you even know that? Have you read Pride and Prejudice?"

"No. My mom has. She made my dad and I see the movie."

She laughed.

"It's no laughing matter," I said. "I felt girly for days."

She kept smiling at me, and then looked away, as it faded, back to the cover of her book. "You look tired," she said to her book.

"I didn't sleep very well." And when I said "very well," I meant "at all".

She looked back at me, folded her arms, on the table and rested her head on them. "I feel tired just looking at you. Are you sick?"

Her arm was very close to mine, suddenly. Not that she'd suddenly moved it there, but more like I suddenly noticed it was there, less than a centimeter from my forearm. "No, just tired," I said.

"Maybe…" She hesitated. "Maybe we shouldn't work on our project after school. If you're so tired."

I found myself shaking my head. It didn't make sense, I guess, because if I actually wanted sleep (which I truly, truly did) then I would have said, "Okay, that's probably best." But I'd also been looking forward to being with just Bella after school again. I wanted to see her as I saw her yesterday. "It's all right. I'll be fine," I reassured her.

"Okay," she said dubiously.

Because I could sense a lull in the conversation, I asked her, "What are you having for lunch?" I didn't really care what it was she was having for lunch, but on Monday it had worked as somewhat of a conversation starter.

She sat up all the way –I immediately missed the presence of her arm next to mine-, and lifted the opening of her lunch bag with her index finger. "A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and an orange," she told me.

I picked up the orange from my own lunch, off my tray.

She smiled her tiny Mona Lisa smile, and said, "Great minds think alike, huh?"

I returned her smile with a grim one of my own. "That they do."

"Can I ask you a question?" Bella asked me tentatively. When I looked at her, her cheeks reddened.

"Sure," I said, and it came out like a question.

"I've just noticed that you look really tired all the time, and –I'm sorry if this sounds nosy, or prying- but I was wondering why that was. Do you just not sleep at all?"

I felt myself lock up. True, it wasn't really a secret –people knew. But in some ways I'd been hoping I wouldn't have to tell Bella about any of it. I had hoped to start over on a new leaf, with her none the wiser. I could tell her that I'd just been stressed lately, and even if she knew I was lying, and would see, as time went on, that I was always in varying states of exhaustion, and that I hadn't just been stressed "lately." She'd take the lie, with courteous disbelief, and never ask me about it later, though she knew I hadn't spoken the truth. But the thought of lying to Bella, didn't make me feel satisfied, or relieved. Maybe if I just told her this one thing, she wouldn't ask me anything else. Maybe it would even make me feel better, to tell her. "I have insomnia," I admitted.

Her eyes widened. "Oh," she said, apparently taken aback by my honesty. "I'm sorry."

I smiled a little. "I forgive you."

She ignored my comment, her face still sympathetic. This was what I'd wanted to avoid –the sympathy, and the pity she would then speak to me with. I hadn't wanted her perspective of me to change, to be altered. Now, she knew something was wrong with me, and everything would be changed forever. Or, for a while, anyway. "Do you take anything for it?"

"Yeah. Sometimes. It doesn't really work very well, though, for me. I can get a couple hours in, but mostly I don't think it's worth it." Suddenly, the things I said, though I believed them, and it was the truth, felt like stupid and clumsy reasons for not taking the medication.

She seemed to have sensed this. Her eyebrow twitched and her expression tightened a little. "But wouldn't you want to at least get _some _sleep –even if it isn't much? More than not getting _any_?"

I pressed my lips together. It would be impossible to explain. She wouldn't understand. She'd think I was either lying, and now that I was actually telling her the truth, I didn't want her to think I was making it up. I was no hypochondriac. But I couldn't just sit here, and not answer her. That wouldn't do me any better. "I just feel like those couple hours of sleep make me feel even worse, because I got to sleep, yes, but it's like I don't even notice it until I'm awake, and can miss it. I'd rather fall asleep on my own, if I do fall asleep."

"_Do _you fall asleep?"

"I probably wouldn't be here if I didn't."

She seemed alarmed by my answer. "And what's that supposed to mean? You'd be dead, because you couldn't fall asleep?"

"Well, you can die if you don't sleep for a long enough period of time. Your brain basically starts failing. It starts deteriorating, and you go crazy, and you die."

Bella's eyes widened, considerably, and her mouth turned into a little 'o' of shock. "Oh my God," she whispered. Very seriously, she asked me, "Have you ever felt like that? Like you were going to die?"

I felt bad then –exhausted, and like my head was floating a few inches above my shoulders, kind of like I was watching myself, but not myself. But I didn't feel like I was going to die. Last year, though, in the beginning of summer, I hadn't slept for a whole week and a half. I'd just started not taking any medication, a couple weeks before, with my very flawed but unshakable reasoning. I remember we'd been visiting family in Chicago, and we were out at dinner with everyone, and I'd been feeling twenty different levels of awful, and weird, due to my lack of sleep, when I passed out cold. I didn't really remember that day, at all, actually. My mom told me after I woke up in the hospital. I remember only that I thought in the dead of night, when I wanted to sleep the most, that I might die. I could almost see it –graze it with the tips of my fingers. My doctor had explained that to me –about how your brain fails when you don't sleep for long enough- when my insomnia had first cropped up. I hadn't really thought about it, until that week and a half. I shrugged, kind of stiffly. "I guess."

Her expression was so serious it made it hard for me to be casual, like I wanted to be about it. "God." She was still whispering, intensely. "I can't even imagine what that must be like."

I couldn't say anything else. I felt like being alone, very strongly, in a powerful rush. It was then too, that I realized the cafeteria was full, and our table was crowded. I stood up, and Bella looked up at me, her expression confused.

"I need to go," I said, and walked quickly toward the exit to the cafeteria.

Once out, I didn't stop. I turned a corner, and ducked into the restroom. I slumped against the tile wall, and slid, until I was sitting on the floor. I closed my eyes, and waited for my breathing to even, and slow. This wasn't working. Any of it. Not sleeping. Being chummy with Bella. Any of it. I decided I needed my sleep more than I needed anything to happen with Bella. I needed my normalcy more than I needed Bella. She was just a person. One I liked, and felt sympathetic toward, and liked talking to, and found fascinating, I could admit. But not someone I couldn't live with out. My infatuation would pass. That was the nature of infatuations. I didn't care what Rosalie said. I couldn't move on. I wasn't going to sit next to Bella. I couldn't let go already. I was tired.

The bell rang, but I didn't budge from my spot on the floor. I thought maybe I would go to class when the late bell rang, but the bell came and went, and I still didn't move. It wasn't until the bell rang again, signaling the end of the period that I lurched to my feet, and made my way to class.

I took my usual seat, in Spanish, next to Emmett. He gave me a look. He'd been giving me a lot of looks lately, and I didn't feel like even acknowledging it. I pretended as if I hadn't even seen him.

"What was up with you at lunch?" he asked under his breath, while Ms. Goff greeted the class.

I ignored him.

He nudged me with his elbow.

I still ignored him.

I could see him shake his head, disappointed, in the corner of my eye. I didn't feel bad. I didn't feel like talking to him about it.

We ended up having a test that whole period –which I'd forgotten about-, so I never had to answer Emmett's question, and got out of class, after the final bell rang, before Emmett could get to me.

I waited for Bella outside of my car. The thing that I realized, now that I was actually about to be face to face with Bella, was that I wasn't so sure anymore if I could go back to barely acknowledging her presence. It wouldn't work, because I hadn't been thinking about how difficult it was to actually fake my feelings around Bella anymore. What I had been thinking was what I wanted to do. Not what would most likely happen, in reality.

I then saw Bella emerge from the crowd, into the parking lot. She was frowning, and her lips looked taut. I knew at that moment, that, of course, I couldn't ignore her.

She didn't smile when she saw me, or wave, or say, hello, as she approached my car. She continued frowning at me, and stood by the passenger door.

I felt like I should say something, or apologize. It was really just hitting me then how cowardly that was of me to go hide in the bathroom from her. I unlocked the car, and we got in. I didn't say anything until I started the engine.

I looked at her, and she looked at me, and at the same as I said it, she said, "Sorry."

"What are _you_ apologizing for?" I asked. I couldn't begin to think what convoluted reasoning led her to think she needed to apologize for anything.

She blushed. "Well, I just thought I shouldn't have been getting in your business like that, especially if it's not any easy topic to talk about. I shouldn't have been so nosy. I'm sorry," she apologized again.

Oh, well, there was that. But Bella didn't even really know what she was talking about. Really, what had bothered me, was that if I wanted to stay friends with Bella, I was going to have to tell her more than just that, and I wanted to stop it then. That hadn't been what I was thinking, exactly at the time, but once I was alone that's what it boiled down to.

"I wasn't feeling good," I lied. Well. It wasn't really much of a lie. It was a half-truth, how about that? "That was all. Sorry I just ran out like that."

"Oh," she said. "I didn't realize." She relaxed in her seat, and I smiled, pleased that she believed me.

"No worries," I said, as I pulled out of my parking place.

"Do you want to come to my house instead?" she asked me, out of the blue.

I glanced at her, but mostly kept my eyes straight ahead. _No,_ I wished I could say. _Not in particular. _My whole reasoning behind it, was that escape would feel less accessible once I was in her house, and not mine. But, I had no reason that I was willing to share with her, as to why I would say no, so instead I said, "Okay."

"Just because we're always at your house, when we work on the project. I was just thinking a change of scenery might be good." Her voice wavered a bit, unsure, as she explained, with out my having to ask.

There is a certain amount of time you can pause, before you either answer, or you don't answer. The moment came to answer, and I still didn't say anything. I sighed, quietly. It felt like we were in this constant balance between getting along very easily, with no awkward pauses, or panic attacks, to, well, awkward pauses and panic attacks. Though, there were admittedly more awkward pauses than panic attacks –thankfully. It just gets a little tired, after some time, trying to keep up. I still felt like I should have said something.

Once we arrived at her house, I waited for her to get out of the car, first. Since, I hadn't really been to her house, save for when I drove her home from grocery shopping, I wasn't sure what the protocol was exactly. I mean, it's not like I haven't driven girls home before. Bella wasn't in the friend, or more-than-friend category, though, so I didn't know how to act. I followed her, up the porch. She turned self consciously, to peek at me, over her shoulder, before she got the house key from under the doormat, and unlocked her front door.

Being in Bella's house wasn't as shocking as I thought it would be, knowing now that she lived her. You could sense her presence, and her deft hand there, though. The Chief's house had never been very tidy, but it had always felt very drafty, and just sort of lacking, in a weird way. I could never place my finger on why, it was, but now that Bella was here, I knew why.

"Do you want something to eat?" she called from the kitchen. I realized then that I was still standing in the front hall. I went into the kitchen where she was rooting around in the fridge, a bag of bread in one hand. She took out a package of cheddar slices. "I was going to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Want one?"

She turned to look at me, when I didn't answer at first.

"Show me how to make one," I said. The thing is, is that despite all my conflicting feelings toward her, I still liked her quite a lot, and she had made me an offer yesterday. Also, this could get me out of this awkward predicament, I was always finding myself in, with Bella.

She seemed surprised, but also happy by my suggestion. She quickly tried to conceal her smile. "Sure. Yeah. Of course."

Bella was more sure-handed and graceful in the kitchen than I'd ever seen her. She moved about the kitchen like a perfectly choreographed dance. Never once did she hesitate, or slip, and it was intimidating. And she hadn't even started cooking yet –she was just gathering ingredients and supplies. She lined them up neatly next to the stove and stood back, her hands on her hips. She turned to me, and swiped the hair off her forehead. "You look nervous," she laughed.

"I'm not," I lied.

She smirked, an honest to god smirk. She didn't seem capable of smirking. It was a weird look for her. I liked it. "Shall we get started?" she asked.

"Lead the way."

Bella was suddenly all business. "All you need is a standard sized frying pan, some cheese –it doesn't matter which kind you use, really-, butter, and a spatula."

I nodded, seriously.

"As far as recipe's go, it's not that hard to remember." She placed the frying pan on the stove, and twisted a knob. "You can improvise easily with it too –it's not that hard to mess up."

"How hot is the stove supposed to be?"

She looked at me, then down at the knob. "Medium heat. Start with medium."

"Right," I said. "Got it."

She took two slices of bread out from a loaf, of sliced sourdough. "I like to butter them first, but a lot of people put the butter in the pan first." She took a butter knife from a drawer, uncovered the butter dish, and cut into it. She smeared the butter across one slice, and then, cut another piece of butter, and spread that on the other slice of bread. She held the slices up for me to see. "Get it?"

"Yes," I told her. Which was weird. Because I didn't understand cooking. At all. My mom had felt that I didn't appreciate her trying to teach me to cook, so she didn't really taught me. The times she'd gotten me to cook, I had failed miserably.

"Good," she said. "Now, you put the pieces of bread, in the pan."

I watched over Bella's shoulder, and she talked, calmly, and methodically. Looking up at me, as she spoke, making sure she had my attention. I kept mostly quiet, unless she said, "Does that make sense?" or "Okay?" and I would say, "Yes," or "Okay."

When she finished, she scooped the sandwich onto a plate, and cut it half. She handed me one side.

It was good. Ridiculously good –comfort food good. Which is, for the record, the best kind of good.

"What do you think?" she asked. I could tell from her expression, that she'd seen the reverence in my face.

I smiled. "There aren't words, really. Just, thank you."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Well, now you know how to make a there-aren't-words-really grilled cheese sandwich."

I smiled. "I like that name."

"Me too," she said, and we smiled at each other, and ate our sandwiches, and it wasn't awkward.

Eventually we sat down, at her kitchen table to work on the project. One of the reasons I liked working on the project, was that it was easy to forget I was with Bella, and be distracted by what we were doing.

I looked up at one point, at the clock on the microwave. "I should go. It's pretty late."

She twisted in her seat, to see the time herself. "Oh, you're right. Okay, then. I'll show you out."

She got up and led me to the door, and opened it. Sure enough, it was raining out. "Bye, Edward," she said, quietly.

"See you tomorrow," I said, and walked out to my car. I heard the door close behind me.

oO0Oo

Tanya really did call me, like she said she would. I tried not to think about her the rest of the week. But I did. And, a lot. I honestly could not tell if she liked me, or not. But, her erratic behavior was the entire reason why she was so entrancing.

She'd called me on a Thursday afternoon. Rosalie, and I had been sitting on the bleachers, of the football field, waiting for Emmett's practice to be over. I picked up my phone, and checked the ID screen. I didn't recognize the number, but I answered anyway. "Hello?" I said.

"Is this Edward?" I heard a throaty female voice say.

"Yeah?"

"It's me," she said. "Tanya."

"I didn't think I'd actually hear from you again," I said. Rosalie raised her eyebrows at me, and I shrugged.

"I said I'd call, didn't I?"

"You did," I agreed. _I didn't think you _would_ though. _

"I've been thinking, a lot," she said. "About you. And, I think I want to go on a date with you. Even if you're a year younger."

I tried very hard not to smile. And failed. "When do you want to go out?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes at me, and turned away.

"Tomorrow," she said.

"Okay," I said. Even though it wasn't really –Emmett had games on Friday nights, and we always went to each other's games. It was obligatory, and no one questioned it, unless –_unless- _it was an emergency. And not Emergency Meeting kind of emergency. It had to be legitimate. But, she said she wanted to go out with me, and she wasn't freaking out, or being weird. This was legitimate. Right? "Where should we go?"

"I want to see a movie," she said. "I've been craving to see a movie."

"Okay," I said again. "Do you want me to pick you up?"

She laughed. "I'll meet you there, okay? At the theater near _La Bella Italia_, at six. Don't be late. I don't like waiting around." She hung up, before I could agree or disagree.

"Sounds exciting," Rosalie said. Her eyes were on the field. She looked almost amused.

"She wants to go on a date tomorrow night," I said.

"Tell her you can't," Rosalie said, frostily. The humor drained completely from her face. It had been strange for everyone around then, because Emmett told Jasper, who told Alice, who told me, that him and Rosalie had started hooking up. It was supposed to be very hush-hush and under wraps, but no one was too blown away by the news. A few months earlier, they'd both been single, and Emmett realized that he found Rosalie wildly attractive. Rosalie resisted it, and even grew to be especially cold, and mean toward him. To be fair, Emmett didn't know how to handle feeling that way toward someone he'd always thought of as a friend, before anything else. He couldn't be subtle about it, and when she rejected him, he only fought harder. I guess, somewhere along the line, she buckled, and now this. From what Alice had told me, they'd had some big fight, that ended with a passionate face-suck session. Since then, though, Rosalie had been acting toward Emmett with an understated, but fierce possessiveness.

"I can't do that," I told her. I was sure that if I told Tanya I couldn't go on the day she wanted, I would never get to see her. I couldn't let that happen.

"Yes," Rosalie insisted, "you can."

"It's just one Friday," I said.

"Don't be so selfish," she snapped.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You'd do the same, if it was some one else's game, and if it were Emmett asking you."

Her expression shifted from icy, to outraged in a millisecond, flat. "That is a complete lie!" she hissed.

"Why? Because you would go to the game, or because there's nothing going on between you and Emmett?" I taunted.

I thought she might hit me, or something, but she glared, hard at me, and said, "It's a lie, because Emmett is my friend, and I wouldn't let him down, so I could go on a date, and the same goes for everyone else, and you know it." She stood up. "It's really pathetic of you to let him down like that," she said. "The fact that you are even considering going on this date, makes me feel disgusted." She turned on her heel, and went to go sit on the bottom row of the bleachers. That felt worse than if she had left. It meant, she'd rather sit anywhere else, than next to me.

I was too irritated at Rosalie to care. She just didn't get it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she just expected me to pass it up, for something I could see any Friday? Not very likely.

Come Friday, Rosalie appeared to have not said a word about it to anybody. I think she'd been waiting for me to tell Emmett, but I had other plans. After school, I caught Emmett at his locker. "Listen," I said. "I don't feel very good, so I might not show for the game."

Emmett shrugged. "What's one Friday, right?" He stuffed his Spanish notebook into his backpack, before slamming his locker shut.

I suppressed a grin. I decided I would act like a good sportsman, when Rosalie confronted me about Emmett's reaction. I'd have to remember his exact wording. "Thanks, Em."

Later that night, as I drove up to Port Angeles I was more excited than nervous. It felt like I'd been waiting for my moment, to finally be with her again, only on more stable terms. On terms that we'd agreed on.

Tanya was already waiting outside of the theater when I got there. "So, here's the thing," she said, "I don't feel like seeing a movie anymore. Let's just get something to eat."

"Okay," I said. She led the way, to _La Bella Italia. _We sat at a booth next to a window.

The first thing, she said, after the waiter had seated us, and we were alone, was, "On a scale on one to ten, how full of shit would you say you are?"

I took my time answering this one, because I figured the fate of this date rested on my answer to it. I decided to say, at last, "Ten. Definitely."

"You know ten counts as completely full of shit, and one, is not full of shit?

I nodded. "Yep."

"Huh," she said. "Interesting. The thing is, is that if you were completely full of shit, wouldn't you say a lower number?"

"Why bother? I leaned back in my seat a bit, relaxing. I cold tell I'd said the right thing.

"Because then you really would be completely full of shit?"

"So, what does that mean? How full of shit you would say I am?"

"I'm going to say six," she said carefully. "I think you're just showing me the image I expect to see. You're more modest than that, aren't you?"

"Not really."

"The fact that you admit it, though means that you are."

"Is that a compliment?"

"No," she said, taking a sip of her glass of water. "Just an observation."

I didn't know what to say to that.

She watched me, with an unreadable expression, for a few moments. "The reason why I didn't want anything to happen between us, was because I've sort of sworn off dating. Or hooking up. It hasn't been doing me any good," she said apropos of nothing.

"That's okay," I said. "You don't need to explain anything, to me."

"I want to though." Her voice was quiet. Not a whisper, or a murmur, but just quiet, in the din of the restaurant. "I don't have a good reputation at my school. If it gets around to Forks High, and you hear it, I don't want you to think less of me."

I smiled as reassuringly as I could to her. "I don't care what other people say, Tanya. It doesn't matter what other people think of you."

She snorted. "Yeah, well, it matters to me."

"What do they say?"

"That I'm easy. That I'm a slut," she said between clenched teeth.

I was hesitant to reply to that. I wondered how much truth there was to that, and if I should be here. _But if she was willing to admit that to you_, part of me also thought, _maybe there's not any truth to that. _"That's not what you seem like to me," I said.

She sighed. "That's good."

We ordered our food, shortly after. Our food arrived soon enough after, that the only other conversation I could muster was small talk. Sshe had the alfredo fettuccini, and I ate some pasta dish, I hadn't remembered ordering, but didn't think was worth making a fuss about. We ate quickly, and talked little. After paying, we saw each other out of the restaurant. I went in, to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her face, just slightly, so I kissed her on the cheek. "I'll call you some other time," she said, as she backed away. "Thanks for going out with me."

"It was my pleasure," I told her solemnly.

She rolled her eyes, and waved good-bye, before we both headed in opposite directions, for our cars.

The thing about Tanya, was that I was never sure how much time I had left with her. Every time we parted ways, I felt like I couldn't be sure about ever seeing her again.

oO0Oo

I lay in bed, replaying the memory in my head, and not feeling as much sadness, or agony as I'd expected. I felt numb, kind of, in my chest, but it wasn't like what I was used to. I wanted to think about Bella instead, of Tanya. It wasn't scary, the immediate ,though, but when I realized it wasn't scary, it became scary.

I pulled my pillow out from under my head, and pressed it against my face. I waited for confused patterns to spiral before the blackness under my eyelids, and for my head to pound, before I pulled my pillow away, and gasped for air. Eventually, you have to surface. It is inevitable.

**A/N: This should have been out last weekend, but skiing took up my usual writing time. Can I just say something about Robert, though? Goddamn he was **_**fine. **_**FINE. **_**FINE.**_** Fine. The tux, and the eye sex. Jesus Effing Christ. Now, imagine watching that with your parents. Yeah. That was my experience. **

**As, always, reviews would be wonderful. If you review, Edward will eat there-aren't-even-words-really grilled cheese sandwiches with you :D**


	10. chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Bella**

Thursday morning, the phone rang while I was contemplating my bowl of cereal. And by that, I mean trying to beat off the jitters I always got, while waiting for Edward. I nearly sprinted –and twisted my ankle, while I was at it- to the phone, expecting it to be Charlie, since he'd gone to work early that morning. However, it was Edward's mom who greeted me on the other line. "Hello –Bella?" she said to my franticly breathless, "_Charlie?!_"

"Oh," I sighed, slumping a little with relief. "Hi."

"Listen, Edward's really not in shape to go to school today," she told me. "Do you need a ride?"

"Okay," I said. I tried not to feel disappointed yet. "Thanks."

"No problem," she said, good-naturedly. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay," I said again, and I listened to the line disconnect, before setting the phone back on the cradle.

I went back to the kitchen table, and cleared it. In all the time I'd been in Forks thus far, each day of the week I could look forward to at least seeing Edward. I felt completely pathetic in being so crushingly disappointed, and even more so, because I knew that I wouldn't get to see him at all.

I was standing at the counter, sinking, when the doorbell rang. I went to the door, and greeted Mrs. Masen, with a smile, albeit a forced one. It was absolutely pouring, behind her. I could tell it was going to be a good day, already.

As I got in her car, I thanked her again. I didn't like being so dependent on other people. It was bad enough, in some ways, that Edward had to drive me around. It was worse now that his mom was now doing it. I couldn't even use the excuse of her being a schoolmate at least.

I'd expected the car ride to be silent, for the most part. I'd never found talking to adults very comfortable. My mom being the single glaring exception. I felt like they had certain hidden expectations of what I should say, and how I should act, so I just opted to remain silent.

"This is pretty unusual for Edward –staying home," Mrs. Masen said, breaking the quiet. "I always have to fight him for it. Even if he's dead on his feet." She smiled in my direction, briefly. Her expression held a certain chiding fondness. "He couldn't even argue with me today," she went on. "That's always a sign."

I let that sink in for a moment. _Dead on his feet. _Worry unfurled in my stomach. "Is he going to be all right?" I asked, trying to sound casual. And most likely not succeeding.

"Oh, yes. He's very resilient. He'll be up and at 'em come tomorrow," she reassured me.

A smile tightened my lips. "That's good," I said blandly.

We arrived at school with out further conversation. She smiled, and wished me a nice day, before letting me out, in the parking lot. And, as I made my way across the parking lot, worrying over Edward being dead on his feet, I bumped into Alice. Literally.

"I'm so sorry!" I was quick to apologize. "I wasn't paying attention." I felt a furious blush burn my cheeks.

Alice smiled, and laughed a little uneasily. "No worries, I wasn't either really. Where's Edward?" she asked. Her face turned concerned.

"He's sick, I guess," I told her.

Her eyebrows scrunched together. "You look worried. Why?"

I felt hesitant. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to know about Edward's insomnia, and if I should be talking about it with other people. Then again, I figured if there were anyone I could trust with this, it would be Alice. "Well, I just think it probably has something to do with his sleeping problem."

Alice's expression froze, before turning into one of shock. "He _told _you about that?" she demanded in a whisper.

I nodded after a beat. "Why?" I asked, in the same intense whisper. "Is that bad?"

"Oh, God no," she said at a normal volume. "It's incredible, really."

I thought about that for a moment, then asked, "Incredible, how?"

"Well," she said, "you have to understand –Edward is a very private person. I mean, he hardly tells _me _anything anymore, and I've been friends with him since forever." She paused for a moment, and studied me shrewdly. "He must really like you." Then I realized that she wasn't just studying me, but sizing me up –as if to see if I were good enough for that.

I gnawed on my lip, self-consciously. I was 99.999999999% sure that, that wasn't possible. As a friend sure. But, what Alice had most likely meant by "liking" me? There wasn't a shot in hell.

"Anyway," she said, changing the subject. "I was wondering if you'd like to hang out after school."

"Okay," I agreed, absently. My mind was still reeling. Have I mentioned yet how confusing I found Edward?

We parted ways then –me heading to class, her heading toward Jasper.

I felt more desperate than ever to see Edward. Alice's words –_He must really like you- _turned over and over in my head. Firstly, I highly doubted that. On so many levels. He was too good looking, too mysterious, too interesting for me. My infatuation had no way of developing into a real relationship, and there was no feasible reason why he should have feelings of that sort toward me. It simply didn't add up. Secondly, what did that even mean? What did him telling me about his sleeping problem, have anything to do with him liking me –in any way? And thirdly: what if he _did _like me –in _that _way? The idea was laughable. But, wouldn't it feel so sweet if he did feel that way? I wondered what it would be like. Could I imagine the way his eyes might glint with dark lust –meant for only me to see? Could I imagine the words he would utter, for my keeping, his breath hot against my skin? Could I imagine the heat between our bodies, as we lay beneath the spread of covers? The sad truth was, no, I could not. Like I said; it just wasn't about to happen.

Aside from being all hot and bothered by that, I felt equally worried about what made Edward's exhaustion more spectacular today compared to every other day. Maybe today had been the final straw, and he had come too close to passing out. Maybe he was really very close to being dead on his feet.

I spent the entire day in a haze of anxiety over A) not seeing Edward, B) how much he liked me, and C) him dying. I felt like my nerves were just about shot, and my head was throbbing by the end of the school day. Alice met me at my locker, and made small talk with me as we made our way to the parking lot. It was then, while I was scanning the lot for her car, and while she was telling me about how much homework she had tonight, that I saw him leaning against his silver Volvo –staring directly at me, no less.

I stopped in my tracks. Alice took a moment to realize I'd stopped walking, and turned to look at me, then, what –or who, I suppose- I was staring at.

"What is _he _doing here?" she wondered aloud.

"I don't know," I murmured in response, though I was pretty sure the question had been rhetorical.

He motioned with his hand for us to come over, at noticing our own staring.

Alice and I looked at each other. She shrugged, and we walked over.

Alice greeted Edward with the same rhetorical question I'd answered, as we approached. Only, this time he knew the answer, and the question wasn't rhetorical.

"I'm picking Bella up." He flashed a brief smile in my direction.

I observed his appearance for any sign that he might die, and to my relief, he looked healthier than I'd seen him before. No weariness paled his face, or clouded his eyes. Instead, he looked focused, although a bit tense. His lean arms were crossed, over his chest, and his hair twisted in the cool wind.

It took me a moment to realize that Alice had asked me a question. "Sorry –what?" I asked her, my voice pitched high in embarrassment. I tried not to look at Edward.

She tried to hide a smirk. Clearly, she had noticed my ogling. "I was just wondering if you knew about Edward picking you up."

I glanced at him –I couldn't help it. "No," I said.

"If you don't want a ride, that's fine," Edward said, all nonchalance, and charm. It made me feel uncomfortable. I could sense his fakeness. "I just thought you wouldn't want to be stuck with out a ride home."

I wasn't sure exactly what it was he wanted me to say. Nor Alice, for that matter. They were both peering at me, expectant. "Uh, well, I was going to go over to Alice's actually."

An expression that passed too quickly for my interpretation, flashed across his face, before it went back to polite indifference. My discomfort with this put on of passiveness was quickly turning into annoyance, and beyond that hatred. I wished he would stop. "Okay," he said, with out inflection.

Alice seemed to feel my same irritation, judging by the exasperated look she was giving him. "Why don't you just go with Edward," Alice said to me, while still glaring at Edward.

"It's not a big deal, Alice," Edward said. He rose an eyebrow at her –a challenge.

"For Christ's sake, Edward," she sighed. She put a hand over her eyes, and rubbed her temples with her forefinger and thumb. "Drive Bella to my house. No more discussion." She stalked off to her car, before I could say or do anything.

A small, amused smile tugged at one side of his mouth, and for the first time I'd seen it, it infuriated me. I wished I could grab him by the collar of his shirt, and demand why he was acting this way. Sure, I'd observed before how un-genuine he tended to be, but I felt like his put on was unnecessary with me. It felt personal. This whole time, though he remained discreet, and elusive, he seemed earnest, somehow. His friends may be able to take this, but I couldn't let this go.

He turned his smile to me, and the smile faded. "Is something wrong?"

I waited, for a moment, hoping I'd heard real concern in his voice. I suddenly felt very unsure of how honest Edward had been with me all this time. "No," I answered, stiffly.

He gave me an odd look, and I walked around to the other side of his car, and got in, with out another word. My arms wrapped around my stomach. And to think, I'd been spending this whole day thinking, and worrying about Edward. He didn't seem to need me. So, why was I wasting all my time worrying over him? I felt angry with myself, more even than I felt angry with him –though I was less than pleased with him.

Edward cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry I couldn't drive you this morning."

I pressed my lips together. "It's fine," I said, almost under my breath.

The car was in a dense quiet, for about a moment, before he demanded, "Are you mad at me?" It sounded like he was trying to sound cool, and unbothered, but I could sense too deeply the desperation –the quiet plea.

Immediately my resolve was shattered to pieces. "No –why?" I hurried to say. I felt very embarrassed for being mad at him like that. He seemed so much smaller, and the Edward I knew. Not the arrogant show, he gave to Alice. Just with those five timid words I had been completely undone, and remembered exactly why I spent all my time thinking about him.

He let out a breath I hadn't noticed he'd been holding and relaxed in his seat. "I don't know." He seemed like he was about to say something else, for a second, but then just repeated, "I don't know."

"You look much better," I said to him –hoping in some way that this would make up for getting so up in arms with him.

He nodded. "I slept," he said, like it was an explanation.

I smiled. "I'm glad." And I was. Relief, swift and powerful, eased the tension between my eyes, and the disquiet from my mind.

He didn't answer right away and when he did, it wasn't so much an answer, as much as it was a question. "Do you think differently of me –knowing that I have insomnia?"

I was initially taken aback by the question. I had to think about it, for a long few moments before I could conjure up my truthful answer. "I guess it has a little."

His eyes darkened with disappointment, though he didn't seem surprised to hear my answer. "In what way?"

I shrugged. I tried to hide how much it troubled me to see that I'd disappointed him. But, I couldn't make myself lie to him. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for another truth, I was about to admit to. "It makes me worry about you more."

Edward hadn't been expecting that one. For a moment, he looked shocked. He quickly composed his face into a more muted expression –but not quick enough. "You don't need to worry about me," he said, trying to make light of it, teasing me. But everything felt too serious too me, for me to tell if he was really joking.

I swallowed. "I do anyway."

Abruptly I noticed the car was stationary, and Alice was sitting on the front steps leading up to the door of a house, that I assumed was hers.

I turned, to thank him, and he was already looking at me. A gradual smile upturned his lips. His green eyes were solemn.

He rose to my face, as an instant response, and I ducked out of the car, with a quick "Thank you."

Alice rose to her feet, and led me inside. "I really wonder about him sometimes," Alice said, as she led me up a carpeted stairwell. "What I would do to root around in his head for an hour."

I laughed awkwardly. "Ha. Yeah."

She turned to face me. She had stopped in front of a door, her hand on the knob. "Was he acting really weird?" she asked me, curiously.

"Define weird."

She burst into laughter.

What I presumed was Alice's room instantly felt at home, in a weird way. The walls were painted a delicate pink –a color I imagined she'd picked before she was old enough to grow sick of-, with posters on the walls, of bands, and movies. Clothes were piled, on the floor, on her bed, in a full laundry barrel, on the window seat. Pretty much every surface. "Sorry about the mess," Alice said, though she didn't seem even remotely ashamed of it. She pushed the clothes off her bed, and the window seat across from it, onto the floor.

I took a seat, on the bench under the window, while she plopped down on her unmade duvet.

"Bella Swan," she said, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Uh," I said, not all that sure what she meant by that.

"You really have a crush on Edward, don't you?" she asked me.

I was unprepared for the out-right accusation. "No, I don't," I was quick to defend myself.

"Yes," she persisted. "You do."

I didn't say anything. I looked down in my lap, and pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt up, swallowing my hands. "How do you know?"

"It's only unbelievably obvious."

I slowly looked up at her. She was smiling kindly at me. "Don't be embarrassed. I won't tell him, I promise. Not until I think he already knows."

"What?"

"And by that I am implying that he likes he just the same way, of course. I wouldn't be so cruel as to tell him, just to embarrass you. Give me some credit."

"He doesn't-"

Alice heaved such a great, and hugely exasperated sigh, that I stopped short. "He has a major crush on you Bella. Please accept that, because even _he _won't."

I chose to not respond to that, instead opting for asking her a question. "Can I ask you some things about Edward?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Only if you accept that Edward has it as bad for you, as you have for him."

"Okay," I lied.

She huffed, and rolled her eyes. "I can tell you're lying. But, I can see that this will take more than just one sitting, so I'll let it go –just this once. And, I'll only answer the questions if I see them fit. I don't feel comfortable telling you things he hasn't told you about himself."

I took a deep breath, and asked the single question that had been plaguing me for the last week: "What happened to Edward?"

I could tell right away that Alice wasn't going to answer my question. "What do you mean by that exactly?"

"I just heard from Jessica-"

Alice cut me off. "Jessica is completely untrustworthy. She likes to spread gossip, because she has this creepy problem where she gets pleasure out of talking about other people's personal business."

I raised my eyebrows. "You don't even know what she told me yet."

"Yeah, but ten out of ten times she's just saying stuff about people, just for the sake of saying stuff about people."

"She told me something happened with a girlfriend he had last year. Someone named Taylor, I think?" I pressed.

"Tanya," she corrected automatically, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "Will you forget I said that, please?" she pleaded, from behind her hand.

I gave her my most sympathetic look. "I really doubt it."

She cursed and dropped her hand to her lap. She frowned down at her skinny thighs. "I can't tell you much."

I suppressed a smile. "Can you tell me what happened between them, then?"

She considered this. "I can tell you what _didn't _happen. But I won't tell you what happened."

I decided that I could take that. It felt like a fair enough trade. "Did they break up? Is he still in love with her?"

"No, for the first one," Alice said. She took a moment to put together her next answer. "Yes, I think, for the second."

I nodded. Well, that instantly diminished Alice's whole Edward-likes-you-in-that-way thing. I was surprised at how disappointed I felt at that. "So are they still together?"

Alice sighed. "No."

I frowned in confusion. "They're together?"

"Nope."

"I don't get it," I admitted. "Are they together, or not?"

"They aren't together."

"But they didn't break up with each other."

"Right."

I sat back in the seat, and put my head in my hands. "I don't get it," I said again.

"At least now you know something, right?" Alice asked cheerfully, getting up from her bed. "I'm hungry, how 'bout you?"

I could tell this discussion was closed for now, and further prodding wouldn't warrant a warm reception on Alice's part. So, I followed her down to her kitchen, and tried not to puzzle over Edward as much as I wanted to. Instead we had some cereal, and we speculated about what Jasper was planning for their year anniversary, and the ridiculous amount of homework Mr. Varner thought he was entitled to assign.

She got up, at one point, and peeked through the curtains, at Edward's car still –miraculously- parked in front of her house. The sky was flushed with dusk. It was bright enough out, that I could still tell the color of his car, and the sharp green of Alice's perfect square lawn. However, it was too dark to see Edward's profile through the window of his car.

"I feel like I should ask him in," Alice said, thoughtful. "He's just sitting out there."

"Maybe he's sleeping," I suggested.

"I doubt it," she muttered, dryly.

I left not too soon after that, with the excuse that I had to fix dinner for Charlie. She showed me out, but stopped me, just as I took the first step of the front stairs.

"Wait," she halted. "Tell Edward –tell Edward I said that I'm calling him later."

"Okay," I agreed, and waved, a small wave, before heading over to Edward's car.

Edward wasn't asleep. His eyes were calm on the view through the windshield. His long, musician's fingers drummed the time of the jazz filling the car with it's sound, on the steering wheel. A sax crooned over the chugging strum of a bass, and the sweeping time of percussion. It felt very peaceful in his car, and I was glad to see my presence hadn't shattered the moment.

Something about the atmospheric music, and the glow emanating from the consol, and Edward's serene expression, made me feel more content than I'd felt since arriving at Forks. I yawned into my palm, and relaxed against the seat. I had only meant to blink my eyes from sleep, but when I opened them, we were already at my house. The car was stopped, but the jazz was still playing.

"You fell asleep," Edward explained, to my confused expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized, still a bit bleary. "I didn't mean to."

His smile was soft, and made my bones go squashy. "It happens." His words seemed double edged.

"Will you be at school tomorrow?" I asked. I studied his face for any signs of the conflict I always saw there, but he looked calm and sure, for once. Relieved, even.

He nodded. "I don't like staying home."

"How come?"

He looked at me with a curious expression, one I couldn't quite decipher. "I have nothing to do."

I laughed.

"What?" he asked, smiling a little himself, though he looked genuinely confused. "What's funny?"

I shrugged. I could still feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "That's just why I like staying home, sometimes. Because then I don't have anything to do."

He raised an eyebrow. "So then do you fake sick?"

"I used to," I said. "In Arizona."

"Why is it different in Forks?"

I was about to answer, when it occurred to me how strange it was that Edward was so enraptured by what I was telling him, though it was the farthest thing from interesting. "Why do you want to know?" I inquired, rather than answer his question.

"Just curious," he admitted, with his charming half-smile.

"And how do you know if it's different in Forks? Maybe I'm going to fake sick tomorrow."

"But you're not," he said with conviction. "And it _is _different, isn't it?"

_What is he –a mind reader?_ Arguing with him didn't prove to be very productive, so I decided I might as well be honest."I didn't like my school so much in Arizona. School here is more laid back. People are nicer. I don't feel like I stick out so much."

He was quiet for a long time. "It's getting late," he finally said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right," I said, and felt a blush enflamed my face. "Tomorrow." I opened my door, and slammed it behind myself, but not before I swear I heard him say, almost to softly, "I hope so."

oO0Oo

I'd woken up from a dream, heart pounding, and my neck hot and sweaty. It took me a moment of chasing that tail end of the dream, before I remembered it; I'd been walking on a frozen pond, under the shade of a redwood that leaned over it. The rest of the surrounding forest was in an undistinguishable blur. Overhead a brilliant blue Arizona sky stretched beyond the hazy trees. I felt warm.

"Where are you going?" I heard a familiar voice question, from above where I stood, on the ice.

I looked up to see Edward looking down at me, from a branch, were he was perched. He gave me his roguish grin.

"I'm not sure," I told him.

"Why don't you come up here?" he suggested.

It seemed easy enough. I mean, if he got up there, I could too, right? I began to search for a foothold on the surface of the tree, and took a step up, and looked about for the next place to climb up, but then, the branch I was about to grab hold of, leapt up three good feet on the trunk –out of my grasp. I peered up at Edward, and he was even farther away than before. He beckoned, encouragingly. "Come on, Bella," he urged me.

I tried to extend my arm longer, but it felt shorter, and the branch grew even farther away. Clouds rolled in, and formed like billows of black smoke. I reached again, and the branch I was already standing on suddenly gave a great shudder, then completely broke under my weight. I fell, and the fall was a much greater distance than the distance I'd climbed. It was then, just as I was about to smash through the ice that, I awoke, on the edge of my bed, about to roll off.

I put my head in my hands, and tried to remember what I ate last night, to give me such a peculiar dream.

Though it was early, I got up, and showered, anyway, feeling too restless for sleep. I made two omelets, before I saw the note on the counter from Charlie saying he had to go in early again, today.

"Fabulous," I muttered to myself. I hated to see decent food go to waste like that, and I wasn't about to eat both of the omelets, considering how big I made each of them. I could always put it in some Tupperware, and stick it in the fridge, but it wouldn't taste as good, and would probably never be eaten.

I had only taken a few bites of my own omelet, when I heard the doorbell ring. I checked the clock on the stove, in a sudden panic that I hadn't been keeping time like I thought I'd been –but, no, it was just seven now. It was still too early for Edward to be here. I frowned in worry, as I made my way to the door.

And, yet, it was Edward who stood there. I hid behind the door, as much as I could without being rude, for I only wore my holey sweats, and an old, over sized t-shirt. "Edward," I practically squeaked, in my mortification. "What –what are you doing here, _now_?"

He seemed embarrassed, his ears reddening. "Ah –you know, I'm –I don't really know. I'll just wait in the car."

He turned around, and was almost to his car, by the time I sucked it up, and called to him, "Wait –you can come in."

He was hesitant. "Are you sure?"

I blushed harder, and I honestly could not really tell you why. "Of course."

He looked at his car, then back up at me, straightened his shoulders, determined, and walked back up my steps, and when I gestured, he came inside. He stood in the front entryway, wide-eyed, while I closed the door.

He turned to look at me, and I smiled stiffly. "I have an extra omelet if you want one," I offered.

"That would be perfect, actually. I didn't eat this morning." He relaxed, after sitting down at the table. I tried not to felt too embarrassed by my relatively informal wear. But, Edward was entirely distracted by my omelet. I was pleased that it at least wouldn't go to waste.

He ate like he hadn't eaten in weeks. I picked at mine, but mostly watched Edward, and felt glad that I'd decided to make omelets after all. He pushed back his plate when he was done, and wiped his mouth with his napkin, then nearly emptied the entire glass of milk I had set by his plate. "God, that was good," he praised.

I tried not to smile too hard at the compliment. "Thanks."

He leaned back in his chair. "You'll have to teach me how to make that myself."

I let my gaze fall to my own half-eaten omelet. "Why did you come so early today?"

He sighed deeply. Seconds passed before he finally said, "I woke up early this morning, and I didn't really plan it, but I was feeling kind of on edge, and I just ended coming here. I should have at least called you, but I just left the house, as soon as the idea occurred to me." He shrugged.

"Oh," I said. "Just wondering, is all. I wasn't expecting you to be this early, at all." There was something about his explanation that seemed a bit off to me –like he was hiding something. I thought it would be a bit much to confront him about it, but I made sure not to forget that.

"I have to –um- get dressed for school." I really, truly, tried to not blush, like it was some kind of muscle I could control. But that's not how the whole blushing thing works. It comes, and it goes as it pleases. So you can imagine how my attempts at that went. "Just wait down here."

I dressed half-hazardly, throwing on the first shirt, and pair of pants, I got my hands on. I had the nagging paranoia that Edward would come upstairs, and find me amidst getting dressed, for what certainly wasn't the first time.

As per usual, however, that didn't happen, and I found Edward in the same spot, as when I'd left him, only the plates had been washed, and placed neatly on the drying wrack. Before I could thank him, he got up, and led the way out to his car.

Edward walked with me to my first class. We didn't really talk, much, until we got to the doorway of my class. "So, listen," Edward began. "I was thinking that, because yesterday you taught me how to make a grilled cheese sandwich, today I would help you with training."

I stared at him blankly. _Training for _what?

"For the race?" he hedged.

"Oh, that. Yeah, okay. But, what about our biology project?" I felt stupid for getting about our agreement on Tuesday. Of all the things to forget about. I mean, really.

"It's not due for a while. I wouldn't stress about it, if I were you."

"All right," I said. "Is there anything I need to prepare, or whatever, for training?"

"No, not really. Just clothes you feel comfortable in, probably, and some good running shoes."

"Right," I murmured to myself. "Well, thanks for this," I added, weakly. I was so embarrassed with myself for agreeing to do the race, just as an excuse to be closer to Edward.

"No worries. It's my pleasure." He grinned at me. "See you around, Bella," he said, and strolled off.

Good Lord, have mercy on me.

oO0Oo

I noticed Emmett and Jasper walking toward me, from where I leaned against Edward's Volvo. Edward had told me at lunch he might be a little late, getting to his car, because he had to take a Spanish test that he'd missed while he was out.

I honest expected them to go around the car, but as they came closer, Emmett grinned and called out, "Hey, Bella."

"Uh –hi," I greeted lamely. Then, I became sure that they'd been looking for Edward so, I explained his situation to them, with out prompting.

"Yeah, look, we were actually looking for you –right, Jazz?"

"Pretty much," Jasper agreed.

I thought of the questions I should ask, and said, "Why?" at long last, it being the most urgent.

"Well, you see, Bella –no, you know what? I want to come up with my own nickname for you," Emmett suddenly said, distracted by his own train of thought.

"Bella _already _is a nickname," I told him.

"I _know_ that," Emmett said, almost irately. "But I want to give you my own special name."

I made a face. "But, I like 'Bella'."

"Yeah, well, _everyone _calls you Bella. This nick-name's gotta be original."

"I don't think that's necessary," I said, uncomfortably. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or joking, and in either scenario, I really wouldn't know how to react properly either. "Probably we should just leave my name alone."

"No, no. I'm gonna come up with something." His eyes narrowed in though, and asked Jasper, without swerving his stare, "What do you think, Jazz?"

"How about Bella?" he suggested, rolling his eyes.

"Piss off."

"Oh, wait, she already has a nickname. Guess our work is done here. Oh, well."

I'd have to remember to thank Jasper for that later. Or maybe pass along the compliment through Alice.

"You know what, Jazz? You can go –" he stopped himself short, after glancing at me, and finished with, "Away. You can go away."

Jasper laughed, and said nothing else.

Edward was suddenly in view, from a few cars down from his. His expression shifted when he looked up, and saw Emmett and Jasper. He looked annoyed, to say the least.

"Okay, so get this," Emmett said. "I came up with a nickname." He beamed proud of himself. He waited for me to answer, but Edward did for me.

"She already has a name. Now why don't you leave her alone?"

"I see how it is," Emmett mocked. "Well, balls to you, dickwad."

Edward gave Emmett an extremely withering glare, and unlocked his car. "Ouch. That really hurt my feelings Emmett. Take it back," he deadpanned, while opening my door for me.

Emmett snickered, and shoved Edward, while he passed him. "See you tomorrow, asshole." Jasper, rolled his eyes, and followed Emmett.

"Sorry about that," Edward said, with a grimace, while getting in the car, on his side.

"Why?"

"Because Emmett is my friend, and he's very obnoxious."

I snorted.

Edward stopped at my house, for me to change into appropriate running attire. I found a pair of cotton shorts, and tennis shoes. I figured that would do for now. Then, he drove us to his house, where he instructed me to wait on his porch; he explained that it would be easier to not have to explain to his mom, about it, because she would definitely ask.

Clouds completely obscured the sky, as usual. They were perceptibly darker, however, and heavier looking than I was used to. The air had a strange charge to it, and felt heavy, dense. I wondered what that could mean.

Edward stepped out, then, breaking me of my thoughts. He, himself, wore a t-shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and a pair of running shoes. "Looks like there's going to be a serious storm," he noted, as he took the steps down his porch. I followed him.

"I hope we don't get caught in it."

He didn't say anything, he just squinted his eyes, at a distinctly bigger, and darker cloud.

He began talking, as we walked down the sidewalk. He walked fast, and it was hard to keep up. I was practically jogging. "First, I think we'll just walk down to that stop sign." He pointed to a stop sign a few blocks down. "It's just to get a feel for the distance we're going. Then, on our way back, we'll alternate blocks, running, and walking. How does that sound?"

"Um. Good."

We walked in silence for a few blocks. He asked me, though, out of the blue, at one point, "What made you decide to do the race?"

I shrugged. _Oh, I don't know. My obsessive desire to get to know you better, I guess. That's a possibility. _"I just heard about it, and it seemed like an interesting experience. I've never done anything like this before."

He smiled. "So you're impulsive." It was an assumption, not a question.

"I wish."

He cocked his head, in bemusement, but didn't ask me another question. "When you run in a race, you're going to want to conserve energy, by not fully exerting yourself until the last stretch," Edward said, bringing my attention back to our activity.

We walked all the way up to the stop sign, and by the time we got there, it had started drizzling. He explained that we would run this block, walk the next one, and run the after that, and so on.

Edward, naturally, was ahead of me, though we both had started at the same time. He looked incredibly graceful, and sleek, running. I couldn't help but wonder if there was _anything _he wasn't good at.

I felt pretty good myself, until about half way through my second block, running. For one thing, it was raining, at that point, not just drizzling, and this rain meant business. I had a cramp in my side, and shoulder, and Edward probably wasn't even breathing heavily. And he was still ahead of me. He waited for me, at the next block.

"Do you have a cramp?" he asked.

I took my hand away from my side. "No," I lied.

He fought a smile, and said, "Well, _if _you get a cramp, just put your arms like this." He demonstrated, by crossing his arms over his head. I was much more fascinated by the way his wet shirt, clung to his chest, and arms, than the tip. To be quite honest.

"O-okay," I said, a little breathlessly.

It was nearly as dark as night, and the wind was whipping the rain around, in sheets of pins and needles, by the time we got back to his house. Lightening cracked the sky, and thunder rolled.

"Maybe you should, call your dad, so he knows you're hear," Edward suggested, while peeling off his sneakers, and dumping them on the porch. I did the same with my shoes.

"Yeah, I think so too."

He took me inside, and we'd taken exactly two steps, when all the lights went out, and we were drowned in darkness.

"Edward?" I called out, feeling an unnecessary rush of fear. I reached out, and his hand fumbled against mine, before finding, and grasping it.

"Is that you, honey?" I heard his mom call from the kitchen. "Who are you with?"

"Bella Swan," Edward answered.

"Well, why don't you two stay there, while I try to find a flashlight, or matches?"

"Okay," Edward answered for us.

I was shivering from the cold of my wet shirt, and shorts, not fear, but I appreciated the squeeze Edward gave my hand anyway.

"What if you can't call Charlie?" Edward asked. "Did you leave him a note?"

I scrambled to remember whether I had left him a note, or anything, but then, a light emanated from the kitchen, and I was distracted.

"Aha!" Mrs. Masen proclaimed, and came to find us in the foyer.

"I'm afraid the phone lines are most likely down, for now, Bella," Mrs. Masen said, as a greeting. "You're going to have to stay with us until the power comes back, or the storm passes."

I had to wonder, how long that would be.

**AN: I am so mind-blowingly sorry about how long this took. I truly apologize. I wont even bore you with excuses, just know, there has been good reason for the delay. And I'm sorry this chapter is stupid. It has to do with my excuse. **

**If you review, I'll … tell you something about the next chapter, how about that? Or I'll give you a pony? With Edward riding it? Or Jasper. Or Emmett. I'm not picky. Just, kindly review :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Bella**

Shortly thereafter, the flashlight Mrs. Masen had found flickered, then went out. She cursed under her breath. "All right," she sighed. "Here's what's going to happen. I need you, Edward, to go upstairs and look for a flashlight, or candles. Or whatever you can get your hands on. Bella, you stay down here, on this floor, and do the same. I'm going to look and see if I can find anything in the basement. How's that sound?"

"Okay," said Edward.

A roll of thunder interrupted my affirmation. An uncomfortable trill shot through me.

Edward disappeared up the stairs, and Mrs. Masen went down to the basement, leaving me alone. It felt wrong to be rooting around in some one else's house –especially when that some one else was Edward. I tried not to dwell on it. I'd never realized how creeped out thunder made me. With each crash of thunder, my stomach tightened further into coils of –what was it? Fear? The dark wasn't helpful either.

Mrs. Masen came back up stairs after only ten minutes. "I found a candle," she said. I couldn't quite see her. She was a dark outline. My eyes were still not quite adjusted to the dark yet. Either that, or this was as adjusted as they were going to get. There was nothing for my eyes to grasp for light from. Everything was dark.

Her hand was suddenly on my shoulder. "Here," she said. "Take it." I could make out the hand not on my shoulder held out to me, offering the candle. I took it from her.

"What should I do with it?" I said. I squinted down at the candle in my hand. It was short and thick, and the wax was smooth, and almost cool. I tried to imagine what color it might be. In my mind's eye, I saw it as scarlet.

"Upstairs –I'm sure we have matches up there. I'll keep looking for the flashlight."

"All right," I agreed.

I made it up two whole steps, before, I stumbled, having stepped down, on where there wasn't a step. I made the rest of the way up, on all fours, to be sure I wouldn't make another display of uncoordination –even if even _I _couldn't see my folly.

Once I got to the landing, I realized it was even darker up here, than it was on the main floor. I carefully brought myself upright, the candle still gripped tightly in my hand. Thunder rolled. My fingers tightened around the wax, and my jagged fingernails bit little crescents into the malleable material. You could hear the rain on the roof, up here, and the wind.

I tried to make my way to a wall, blindly. My arms were outstretched, but that didn't help my clumsy feet, as they tripped over a bump in the carpet. I tried to regain balance, but I fell, and my knee slammed painfully into the floor. I groaned.

"Bella?" Edward's voice was not as far away, as I might have expected it to be. I saw him, his shadow-like form, in a doorway, just to the left of me. I could see him draw closer, and his soft footsteps on the rug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. My voice was pitched high with embarrassment.

He knelt by me, and helped me to my feet, though I honestly didn't need the help.

He led me to his room, wordlessly, where I was introduced to yet another, deeper, shade of black. "Did you find anything?" he asked me.

It bothered me that I couldn't see his face when I spoke to him. I couldn't place exactly why it was so particularly disquieting. "Your mom found a candle in the basement." I felt his hand on mine, prying my fingers loose. "What are you doing?" I asked, though I got that same excited rush that I got every time he touched me.

"Getting the candle. Or, trying to."

I felt my cheeks burn. "Oh." I loosened my grip immediately on the candle, handing it to him.

He shuffled with something, and I heard a metallic grind, and a small flame rose up out of the lighter he was holding. I could see his face now, as with care, he lit the wick of the candle (that turned out to be ivory colored). He walked over to his desk, to set it on, and turned to face me. His hands were in his pockets, with a seemingly relaxed stance, but there was something about him that seemed tense. Weird shadows were cast about. The waxen glow gave the room a hollow, eerie cast. His smile was strange.

"So," I said. "Now what?"

He shrugged, one shouldered. "I don't know."

I listened to a gentle rumble, followed by an ear-splitting crash. I jumped. I could feel it even in the soles of my feet.

Edward edged a little closer to me. He seemed both amused and concerned toward my reaction. "Are you afraid?" His voice was soft. It fit into the dark, unlike my own awkwardly pitched voice.

"No," I said, even though I was starting to feel it prickling at the small hairs of my arms.

"Listen," said Edward. He was very close to me then. There was a foot, maybe more –maybe less- between us. He looked up toward the ceiling, and I followed his line of sight. In the silence you could hear the whistle of wind whipping past the windows, and the rain pelting the roof.

"What are we listening for?" I whispered

"Sh," he shushed me. Eyes still turned on the ceiling of his room, he placed his palm against my cheek, and his thumb over my lips.

I stilled instantly, afraid to react. The gesture was more than a sign to keep me quiet. It was tender. Affectionate, even. I could feel my cheeks burning –my whole _face _burning- under his warm hand. I stared hard at him, fixated, and petrified.

He must have felt my staring, because he looked down at me, slowly. His thumb moved away from my lips, but his hand remained at my cheek. We were frozen, staring. Was it just me, or was his head tilting toward mine, and mine towards his, ever so slightly? Or was that just my imagination? Was I just imagining the feeling of his breath, warm on my face? Or was that just the pulse of blood, hot, and excited, beneath my skin?

But then, he moved away from me, to the door. I was still immobile, taken aback by what I might have just imagined.

"I think there's an emergency flashlight in my dad's office," he said, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat. "I'm –uh- going to get it."

"I'll come with you," I volunteered in a moment of rare boldness.

I almost completely lost my nerve when I saw the ambivalence in his face. But all he said was "Sure," and held the door open for me.

I thought to take the candle off of his desktop. He walked behind me. His footfalls were much quieter than mine, and I might have thought they were the mere echo of my own –that he wasn't behind me at all- if it weren't for the high clear tune he was whistling. I wondered if he was musically talented. Whenever Charlie whistled, all it sounded like was an indistinguishable warble. Edward whistled a tune that reminded me of a joke in black humor. Uplifting, somehow, yet the minor key made it simultaneously sad.

"What tune is that?" I asked him.

"I don't know. I made it up."

I stopped, and turned.

"What?" he said to my blatant stare.

"Just now? Did you just come with that?"

He laughed. "You seem surprised."

"You're lying," I said. "You couldn't have just come up with that."

He pressed his lips together to hide a laugh. He snorted, though, giving it away. "You don't think I could?"

"I don't know –did you?"

"I came up with it, but not on the spot," he admitted. He was still beaming his heart-breaking, crooked smile. His eyes looked dark, not in color –for they were as brilliantly green as ever- but in essence. I had the distinct feeling, at that moment, that it would be a cold day in Hell before I understood anything about Edward Masen.

"Well. It's very pretty," I said.

"Well," he said, with barely concealed amusement. "Thank you."

Edward pushed the door next to him open, and waited for me to go through, before he himself did.

Edward rummaged through various drawers –in a wide oak desk, that was probably an antique, in the shelves of the bookcases pushed up against the walls, and ever in the filing cabinet drawers that weren't locked. I leaned against the wall, and watched him search, for a little while, but eventually I wandered over to one of the bookcases. What drew me were the thick volumes, but then, what captured my attention were the picture frames placed on the shelves.

On the shelf that was on eye level to me, was a picture of a little boy sitting on the heavy limb of a tree, his feet dangling over. His face was half turned, as if the picture had been taken right as he was turning his head. He was wearing shorts, but his top half was bare. His skin looked fair, and I could make out the ridge of his spine in his little back and a trio of dark freckles, or moles on his right shoulder blade. His hair stuck up in a mad cowlick at the back of his head. And, just in the profile of his face, I could see that he reminded me very much of someone. There was something about the line of his nose, or the direction his hair sprang from his head.

"My mom," he said.

I jerked, startled, that he was behind me. I looked at him.

"She took that picture of me. I think it was the summer before first grade." His eyes were fixed on the picture, with an expression of unfathomable nostalgia. "I didn't know she was going to take it."

I studied the picture some more. "You were very cute," I concluded. I smiled at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go. There aren't any flashlights in here."

"Okay," I said. I hesitated though, my eyes wandering, scouring each frame, for Edward's face, and there were quite a few –family pictures, school photos, pictures of him with friends, and family- but then I found one picture, just as I was turning to follow Edward, of him next to a girl, her hair red-gold. They were sitting on his porch together, their hands disappearing between the little space between them, and they looked like they were trying to make serious, straight faces for the photo, but they were clearly smiling –it was in their eyes.

"Bella?" Edward called. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," I said. I shook my head, and went out of the office, into the hallway, where he waited for me.

Edward went to look in the other rooms on the floor, including his own room, for another comb through. However, no flashlights were found. Eventually Mrs. Masen came up, and asked us if we were hungry at all. Because we were bored, we said we were. Thankfully, their stove was gas powered.

"You know," I said, smiling devilish at Edward, where he stood across from me, against the counter. "Edward could make some grilled cheese sandwiches."

He blanched, and shook his head.

Mrs. Masen turned sharply, from cutting vegetables for a salad. "What's this? Since when could you cook anything?"

Edward's expression turned sheepish when looking at his mother. "I can't."

"You can too," I said. "I didn't show you how to, for nothing."

"I'm going to mess it up."

"How?"

He threw his hands up. "I don't know, but I will."

Mrs. Masen rolled her eyes. "Have a little faith, Edward. It's not that complicated of a recipe. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Why don't you just try?" I insisted.

He shook his head.

"Edward," Mrs. Masen chided. "Come on."

"We probably don't even have all the ingredients."

"What kind of grilled cheese sandwiches are you planning on making?" said Mrs. Masen. She gave a short laugh.

Edward narrowed his eyes at his mom's back, when she turned back to the vegetables she was slicing.

"Go on," I said, taking a step toward him. I nudged him, with my elbow. _What has _happened _to you? Where are you getting this kind of courage? Since when did you _nudge _anyone? Especially anyone like _Edward_? _

He nudged me back –his only response.

"I don't get why you're so chickened out by the idea of making a simple, grilled cheese sandwich. I showed you how to before," I said.

This seemed to grasp his attention. "Are you calling me _chicken_?" he asked with joking out-rage.

It was a dare –a challenge – for me to reciprocate the banter. With out so much as a moment of hesitation, I managed to smile, and said, "Maybe."

He sighed deeply. "Fine. You win." He stalked over to his fridge, and removed the ingredients necessary, and set them on the counter by the stove. He moved with surprising confidence, for someone who was just prior so dead set against cooking.

Once, however, he had everything laid out next to the stove, he seemed lost. "Okay, now what do I do?"

I resisted the urge to smile. "No hints."

"What?" He turned to look at me with what looked like real out rage. "That's not fair."

"I showed you how to make it," I said. "You can figure it out."

He muttered something under his breath, but turned back to the stove.

Mrs. Masen had stopped her chopping, to watch Edward, as he carefully, cautiously, set to making the sandwiches. I watched too, and the more I watched the more unclear it was to me, what Edward had been so worried about. He was doing perfectly fine, and hadn't forgotten a single step. Once he'd finished he placed the sandwich on a plate, and cut it in half with the edge of his spatula, diagonally. He handed me one half, and watched me bite into it, with an expectant expression.

"Well?"

I swallowed, and felt the corners of my lips turn up at how anxious he looked.

"There aren't words really," I said.

He smiled at that. "I'm glad."

---

After eating, I started to get the feeling that I wouldn't be able to go home. Especially, when Edward's father finally came home about an hour later, with news that a logging truck had slid, and caused a major accident on the 101. The storm had also refused to subside. The thunder was only getting louder and more frequent.

Edward must have sensed my discomfort, and offered to take me on a tour of the house –as a distraction, he said.

"I've seen your house," I said.

"Not all of it," he said. He set the plate he'd been rinsing in the dishwasher. He'd refused to allow me to help him. His excuse was that I was a guest. And every time I'd try to argue, he would start speaking over me, asking a question like, "When's your birthday?" or "Do you have any pets?" I gave up, pretty quickly.

"I don't see how…" I trailed off as a grumble of thunder shook the floor.

One corner of Edward's mouth curled up at the corner. He closed up the washing machine, and walked over to me, and guided me out of the kitchen. "Okay," he said. "I have one question for you." He was leading me toward a hallway off the kitchen and down it.

"Shoot."

"Why does thunder scare you so much?"

"It doesn't," I said, before thinking.

He laughed at my denial. Before I could clarify, that I just wasn't used to it, he stopped in front of a door opposite their back door. "This," he gestured to the door. "This, Bella, is our basement."

"Oh. Well. This is quite the honor, isn't it?" I said. "The Masen Basement. Wow."

Edward gave me a look. "I don't know what you're implying, but, yes, this is our basement." He opened the door, to a carpeted stairwell. Only a few feet in front of Edward were lit, by the candle I was holding, but the rest of the way down, was utterly dark.

He laughed at my undoubtedly unnerved expression. "It won't be scary, I promise."

"Isn't there some other part of your house that you could show me?"

His smile was dark. "No. Come on." He motioned me toward him. With apprehension I drew closer to him. His smile remained on his face, and he put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm right here."

"Are you mocking me?" I said. His expression –his smile- wasn't quite serious enough to be comforting.

His face quickly sobered, though his eyes burned darkly, with humor. "No, of course not. Come on."

We walked down the stairway, bumping shoulders. There was just room enough across for us to walk side-by-side, but not so we didn't touch, every step we took down. I did feel more at ease, having him so close. He felt safe. Rather, I felt like he could protect me, more than he was really safe.

The room we came down to was less of a basement, and more of a wreck room. The floor was thickly carpeted in the same grey carpet as was on the stairs. The walls were paneled with out-dated wood paneling, and long fluorescent lights were on the ceiling. A TV sat on an old paint-chipped dresser, across from a couch whose fabric was fuzzy with age, and had holes, that showed its yellow foam insides. It sat on the ground, with no legs. A washing machine and dryer were next to the doorway.

Edward however, did not seem interested in any of that. He pad across the room toward a huge shape, that, when he pulled the sheet off of it, revealed to be a piano. He pulled out the bench, and sat down on it. I slowly walked toward him. He wasn't playing. He just stared at the ivory –contemplating it. "You know," he said, "I haven't played for a while."

"How long?" I asked him.

He exhaled. "I don't know. A while."

He placed his long pianist's fingers on the keys. He paused, then began playing. The song unraveled, like a spool of thread, developing into more complex, more emotive chord progressions, and notes. And as the song went along, I thought I could detect the melody he had whistled, weaving it's way through the song. It sounded much sadder, here, on the piano than when I'd herd him whistle it. Where there had been humor, there was derision, and in place of the gentle darkness, to the tune, there was poignancy. And suddenly it was over, the notes still reverberating in the air. I realized that I'd wandered over, to him, and was standing just behind his shoulder.

On his profile I could see that he was smiling, satisfied. "I'm glad I haven't forgotten how to play."

"That was really good," I said. I was in awe, though a part of me wondered if there was _anything _he wasn't good at.

He looked up at me. "Thanks."

"You wrote that yourself, didn't you," I said.

He grinned wider. "Yeah, I did. Why?"

I stared at him for a moment, and his smile faded at something he saw in my expression. "You've just never mentioned that you play piano," I said. "I wouldn't have thought, if you never mentioned it, that you wouldn't be this good."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't smile. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"No," I said, with a nervous laugh. "Definitely not."

He seemed confused. "Why do you say that?"

I didn't want to reveal to him that after just hearing his own ridiculous playing, I didn't want to even attempt anything of my own. "I'd rather you played," I said instead.

He rolled his eyes. "Think of it as something to do." He scooted over on the bench, and pat the space next to him.

I didn't move. "Why? Are you bored?"

"Well, anything else I can think of to do involves either going outside, or electricity, and neither of those things are options so," he pat the seat again. "Sit."

I suppressed a sigh, and sat next to him on the bench, and put the candle on the glossy piano top. "What are you going to teach me how to play?" I had my eyes on the twitching flame of the candle. When Edward didn't answer, I turned to look at him.

He was turning the pages of a music book. His brow was furrowed in an exceptionally attractive look of concentration. "I don't think you'll be able to play anything in here," he said.

"How come?" I tried to see the pages, but he closed the book. The cover was yellow, with a picture of a middle-aged man with a powdered wig. Above the picture in black type it said _Bach. _

"Because it's giving _me_ a headache looking at it," he said. He stared into space for a moment. He seemed to have come to a decision then. "Have you taken lessons before?"

"Yes," I said. "My mom had me take lessons when I was little. But I never liked them, so it didn't last." I wished for the first time since I'd had those lessons, that I had continued my playing.

He smiled a little. "I didn't like my lessons either. I was ready to quit when I was thirteen, and I told my dad, and he just said that it'd be my loss."

I felt confused. "What does that mean? _'Your loss.'"_

"He said that girls liked musicians," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "And that convinced you to keep playing.

"Naturally."

"So, when did you stop taking lessons, then? You said you hadn't played for a while," I said.

"Not too long after I turned sixteen," he said. His expression was unreadable. "At that point, I figured I had the piano playing thing figured out. I was cocky. I didn't think I really needed lessons."

"Did you?"

He grinned. "_I _don't think so."

As I stared at him, I felt my smile fade. Here it was again –his put on. I couldn't fathom why he though he needed to act this way around me. And what if this wasn't a put on at all? What if this was really how he was? I didn't think that was true though. Edward was better than his false arrogance. The more I thought about it, in fact, the more it seemed like a security blanket. I wanted to tell him that he didn't need it, that his whole act was silly, and ridiculous, and ask him whom it was for? Me? Or himself?

His own smile slipped. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

I didn't answer for a beat. "No, nothing's wrong."

He put his hand flat on the bench, in the space between us. His arm was almost completely flush with mine.

I felt his eyes on the side of my face. I tried to not look back at him, but then, felt myself do just that, very slowly.

He smiled at me. "Thanks for making me make those sandwiches."

I sighed, strangely relieved. "Any time," I said.

He laughed.

--

Edward and I stayed in the basement for some time. He never ended up really teaching me anything, because I wouldn't play anything. He played several songs. He found a music book from when he'd first started his lessons at six, and played a few of the simple tunes, albeit adding on to them, to make them more elaborate. I liked his bluesy _Mary Had A Little Lamb_ best. I studied his awkward, six-year-old handwriting on the inside cover. _EDWARD ANTHONY MASENES BOOK PLEAS DONT' TAKE, _it said.

Edward then gave me a thorough tour of the basement; he showed me the small TV, his video game consol --that he told me he only used when someone else wanted him to play-, the crummy couch, the stash of red liquorish, and dirty socks under the cushions of it, the washing machine, and dryer, and its cabinets overhead (that were loaded with dryer sheets, fabric softener, _Shout!,_ all-purpose cleaner, and a jar of loose change), and the crawl space under the stairwell, that was originally used as a wine cellar, but had also served as a hiding place, for when he was younger. "I still come down here sometimes," he said. He was hunched over, so his head wouldn't knock the ceiling. I had to slouch, myself, under the descending ceiling.

He sat on the floor, and I sat across from him. "How come?"

"It's very quiet. You can't hear a thing."

"Oh," I said.

"It's probably the asbestos."

I rolled my eyes.

"See, what I don't get is how come you're afraid of thunder, but not the risk of cancer," he said, his eyes glinting with laughter.

"Thunder is noisy," I said. "And there's no asbestos here."

"How do you know?"

"Because. I can tell you're joking."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"I have a question for _you_," I said. I squared my shoulders.

He seemed to sense a change in my mood, and straightened himself up too. The motion seemed to be in mockery, and I felt a surge of bitter resentment, as I'd been feeling anytime he acted too fake, masked in. "I'm ready," he said.

"Why do you do that?" I asked, and tried not to sound too accusatory at that same time. "Why do you act so fake? I know this isn't the way you are, and I don't know. There's just something really cocky, and odd about it. It doesn't make sense for you. You're not that person you want me and other people to think you are. I don't even _know _who you are, even though I try to --but every time I feel like I get close to you, you shut me out, and –and—" I stopped myself. I stared hard at my steeped knees, rather than his face, afraid for what I might see.

But when too much time passed for it to be any kind of comfortable silence, I slowly –very, _very _slowly- looked up at him.

He looked at a complete loss of what to say, or how to react. His expression was blank, but it seemed like emotions roiled just underneath. He opened his mouth, to say something, maybe, but closed it.

I felt my cheeks burning. "I'm sorry. Never mind that. I don't –just forget I said that at all." I was speaking to my knees again. I had no idea how to take back what I'd just admitted to feeling about Edward. A mere apology, and plea to turn the other cheek, couldn't possibly suffice.

"Don't apologize," he said.

I glanced up at him. He no longer looked shocked by my question, but he still seemed perturbed that I'd said anything at all. I felt a ball of guilt in my throat. I never should have said anything about his strange behavior. It wasn't my business. "I should _not _have said that," I said. "I'm really, _really, _sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"No," he said. His voice was quiet, earnest. "Listen to me, Bella –you're –you are absolutely right."

I fidgeted, unable to respond.

"You're a lot more … perceptive than I give you credit for," he said. He sounded like he was trying to make light of the situation, by complimenting me. His smile was forced.

I felt my stomach lurch. _Stupid, _stupid, _STUPID. How could you be so tactless? _"I shouldn't have said that," I said.

"Don't say that," he said. "I'm glad you said something. I would have kept doing it, if you didn't say anything." He seemed to see that I wasn't convinced that it was okay to any degree, so said, "Look, all right? I'm not going to really get into it, but I think it's sometimes easier to face people when you don't act like how you feel, you know? Honestly, if I knew everyone could tell I was doing it, I wouldn't, but you're the only person who's even shown a sign that you noticed it, so I won't do it anymore. Not, at least, when you're around. I promise."

I took a deep breath. "You don't have to do that for me. It's not fair that I should have even pointed it out."

"I _want _to do it for you. I owe it to you."

I wasn't prepared for the urgency in his voice. "You don't owe me anything," I said, because he didn't, and it made me feel even worse, that he was turning this whole thing around. He should be _mad _at me. Not trying to do me favors.

"Yes," he said, "I do." His expression was so completely and utterly serious, that I couldn't refuse him.

"Okay," I said, weakly.

He leaned back, as if he suddenly realized he'd been leaning forward, toward me, all this time. "So. Tell me –are you liking Forks any better, now that you've been here for a couple weeks?"

"I am," I said, glad for the change in subject. I hoped he wouldn't ask why, though. My blush would give it away, even if I lied.

"Is there anyone you miss from Phoenix, besides your mom?" he asked me. "Like, a boyfriend?"

I bit back a groan. _I thought I was done with this question. _"Uh, not really, no. I've never had a boyfriend. I wasn't really that close with anyone either."

"Really?" he said, skeptical.

"Why is that so hard to believe? No, I have never had a boyfriend, or anything like it."

"But, why?" He still seemed utterly confused, as if there was no way he could make sense of me not having a boyfriend. Which, I found really confusing.

"I don't know. I haven't really been pining for one. Not, that I've ever been asked out or anything, either," I said. I shrugged. I didn't know how else to explain it.

"You like your independence," he said with appraisal.

I wondered how he'd come to that particular conclusion. "How do you figure?"

"I can just tell. You can hold your own, and you're okay with that." He was smiling, faintly. He was looking at me in a way that made my stomach ache with how knotted it got. He looked down, then, the smile vanishing, and he swallowed.

It was moments, like these when I could see some old ache, a buried past, in him, that I remembered how much I didn't know him –and how much I wanted to. I felt a rush of questions flood my head, and, though I knew I shouldn't ask them, I wanted to. "Edward?" I said, tentative.

He lifted his head again. His expression gave away nothing. "Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question? A really big question?"

"Another one?" He smiled, though it was tired, resigned.

"I'm sorry," I said, quickly. "I don't have to ask it."

"No, I want to hear it, at least," he said, though he looked like he really didn't want to hear about it at all.

"Who's Tanya?" It wasn't the question I'd exactly meant to ask, but in essence it was the same. I still didn't understand who she was.

His face turned ashen. He swallowed again. "She –she was a girlfriend I had last year." His voice cracked at the end, with emotion.

"Oh," I said, voice small.

He was studying my reaction. "I'm not still with her," he explained.

"Yeah, I got that," I murmured.

Maybe he saw that I was somehow still unsatisfied, or something, because the next thing said was, "She's dead."

My eyes flew wide with shock. "Oh," I said. "I –wow. I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

"It's fine," he cut me off. "I'm over it." He looked like he could hardly keep himself composed. I didn't believe him.

Was this why he seemed so distant –so out of reach? Was this his private sorrow? Was he just sad, because she'd died, or was it more? Did he love her? Whatever it was, I could see, now that it plagued him. I felt a need to comfort him –not to pity, but to simply make it so he wouldn't feel this way anymore. But, for now all I could offer him would be to be near him, and so with not but a second of apprehension, I moved so I sat next to him. He didn't seem surprised. He simply put his arm around my shoulders, and leaned his head against mine, as if he was a cripple, and I was supporting him. I leaned back into him, in return. And it didn't feel scary to be close to him. It felt easy, and warm, and it smelled like soap and Edward, and I could feel electricity everywhere we touched.

He pulled away, though, too soon, and got to his feet. "We should probably go upstairs now –see if the storm's over."

I'd forgotten all about the storm in the time that we'd been spending in the basement. It felt like a sharp slap of reality –a reminder that Edward and I weren't the only people in existence. "Right." I got to my feet.

I followed Edward back up the stairs. The house was still all dark, and there was no light, except the light from the candle, I held. The clock on the coffeemaker was flashing 2:00. "Looks like the electricity is back on," I said.

He nodded, but didn't say anything for a while. "I wonder what time it is," he said, at last. He went into the next room. I stood for a moment, in the kitchen, before going after him. He'd flipped the light switch on. The chandelier hanging over the rectangular table winked its drops of ice. He was watching the face of a grandfather clock. It looked like an heirloom.

"It's one-fifteen," he told me, with out turning around.

"Oh," I said. I realized that I was still holding the lit candle, and blew out the flame.

"Are you tired?" he asked, turning to face me now.

I shrugged. "A little." _Not at all. _"You?"

He shrugged too. "Not really. But maybe I should set something up, in case if you want to go to sleep." I followed him up the stairs. He turned on all the lights, as he went.

Once we reach his room, he had me sit, on the chair at his desk, while he fixed his bed, and got a quilt from the linen closet in the hall. I snooped, as inconspicuously as possible. I looked for clues, and fragments of his past –anything to learn more about him. But, there wasn't anything to work with. He had no pictures, like in his dad's office. He had his CD's. He had tiny collection of books. He had his desk. But, like I said --nothing really to work with. I tried to make out the titles of the CDs, and the band names, but they were hard to see from where I sat, and I didn't want to get up; he'd know I was poking around, then, and I'd already done enough of that.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he said, breaking me of my thoughts. "You can sleep on the bed."

"What?" I turned to him. "Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want to share…?"

I blushed, and forced the image out of my head. "No –no, that wasn't what I meant," I said, almost hysterically. "I mean, you sleep in your bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

He heaved a sigh. "No. You're A Guest."

"What is all this you're-a-guest stuff about? It's _your _bed."

"I refuse to argue about this," he said. "You are sleeping on the bed. It would be a waste for me, to, since I probably won't sleep anyway." His tone was final, but not angry.

I crossed my arms. "Fine." I didn't want to argue with him, either, really. I just didn't want to inconvenience him any. I got the notion that arguing with him over such a trivial thing, as where I slept would be a greater inconvenience.

"Are you tired?" he asked me, while he folded the quilt on the floor in half –a makeshift sleeping bag.

"No," I said. I brought my feet up onto the edge of the chair, and hugged my knees. "Can I ask you a question?"

He paused, in his straightening of the blanket. A shadow passed over his face. "Sure."

I was going to ask him who the girl with the strawberry-blonde hair was in that picture, but then I chickened out. "How did you meet Alice?"

He sat down, Indian-style. "She lives just down the street from me. Our mom's were friends, and they herded all us kids together. Same with Emmett, Jasper, and Rosalie. But then Rosalie and Emmett's families moved. You know Jasper lives right across the street from Alice?"

I shook my head. "Alice says she always knew they would end up together."

He gave a short laugh. "Yeah. Even when we were little, she thought of him as her Prince Charming."

"What about Rosalie and Emmett? Was it the same?"

"No. It was kind of the opposite. Emmett just realized that Rosalie's really hot, and came on too strong; he for some reason thought incessant flirting would sweep Rosalie off her feet, or something. So, she started to avoid him all the time, or argue with him if he was ever around. I don't really even know how she decided she liked Emmett the same way. Maybe that was why she acted like she didn't like all his… come ons. I don't know. I choose not to think about it too much."

I smiled. It was such a complete picture –Alice and Jasper, then Rosalie and Emmett. I liked the idea, that they were brought together against their conscious will, and yet, they all remained friends, after all this time. They even fell in love with each other. I itched to ask him what happened to his Tanya. I itched to know if she had been one of them. I itched to know everything. But I bit my tongue. "What's your favorite book?" I said, instead –an honest curiosity, but not an urgent one, like the others.

He cocked his head the side. "I don't know. I don't read very much."

"But what about those books?" I pointed to the books on the top shelf of his CD case. They looked so worn, and loved –there was no way he didn't read them.

He squinted at them. "I don't think I finished a single one of them."

"But," I said, "they look so _read."_

He smiled crookedly. "They're secondhand books."

"Oh," I said. "Well, that's just sad. Were they really so bad that you couldn't finish them?"

"They weren't interesting to me." His eyes spark, amused at how dismayed I am.

I get up, to get the books. I had to reach, up on my tiptoes, but I got them down. Their spines all lined up, fit into one hand. I studied the cover of the book on top. _Fahrenheit 451. _"I _love _this book," I said, with a tiny gasp.

Edward got up from his seat, to see the cover of the book. He stood so close I could feel the heat of his body, though we weren't touching. "It was boring," he said. His breath was literally on the back of my neck.

"It is _not _boring." I shuffled the stack. _Anansi Boys. _"What, in the name of all that is holy made you stop reading _this_?"

"I got distracted. It was boring. I don't know."

"I'm appalled."

He laughed.

The next book was _Into The Wild. _"What was this book about?" I flip it over to read the blurb.

"Some crazy guy who ran off to Alaska, and died of starvation," he said, tone dry, bored.

I looked at him, surprised. "You finished it?"

"No, I just read the end, so I knew what happened."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. The next was _Catcher in the Rye. _

"I hated that book. So. Much."

I had to look at him again, in hopes that he was joking. He wasn't. _"Why?_"

"What's His Face –the main character-"

"Holden," I said. "Caulfield."

"Whatever. He was really fucking annoying."

"I love Holden," I said, quietly. The last book was _American Psycho. _"I've heard of this one."

"It was too depressing. I liked the movie, fine. But the book was a bit much."

I put the books back on the shelf. "How disappointing," I said. "Have you _ever_ finished a book?"

He smiles. "Not unless it was an assignment, in school."

"I can't even imagine what that would be like."

"Not finishing a book ever?"

"Yeah. Don't you just feel so unsatisfied?"

"Not really. I have other things to do besides read," he said.

I shook my head. "I will never ever understand you."

--

For some time we didn't really talk about anything, but we talked a lot. Mostly it was about school, about what moving felt like, about friends, about family. I actually started to feel very tired, the more relaxed I got around him. I curled up on my side, on the floor, thankful that I was wearing comfortable clothes at least. I was tired enough, in fact to oblige, with out thought, when Edward told me I should get in bed. "I'm not going to sleep, though," I said, as I pulled back the covers, and got in.

He didn't answer –he only turned off the lights.

I laid my head down on his pillow, and pulled up the blankets, past my shoulders. The comforter was cool, soft, heavy. His pillow smelled of fabric softener, pillowcase, and him. And, it was as if his comforters, sheets, and pillows belied all the exhaustion of all his sleepless nights. Suddenly, I could hardly keep my eyes open.

I was about to fall asleep, when the question (a tag on a new shirt, scratching my neck) bubbled to my lips. I didn't even debate whether I should ask it or not –it just came out. "How did she die?" I felt nothing –no remorse, no regret. I just felt tired, and sleep, tugging me downward. My curiosity vanished. I yawned, hugely, my eyes tearing, ears popping.

I couldn't see his face in the blackness of his room. "Good night, Bella," he said. His muted voice, cushioned with old sadness, and old regret pushes me, over the precipice, into the yawning darkness –a lullaby. And I was gone.

**A/N: Holy Christ, I am really sorry about how long this took for me to get one thing, I was cocky, and put writing this off for too long, thinking, I already knew exactly what was supposed to happen, and blah blah blah. But, when I started writing it, it was all wrong, and I didn't know what to write. So, I had to do a lot of fussing with it before I could even make myself want to write it. Then, I got really distracted by this book I was reading (**_**City Of Glass**_** anyone?), and school hasn't been a help. You get the idea. You people, however, have been fabulously patient, and deserve Jasper sundae (Jasper + whipped scream + nothing else.) for it. I can make it happen. Trust me, you guys. **

**So, you know, if you review, you can have Edward and Emmett served up, just the same. Just something to think about. **


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry for the false alarm D: However,** if you are curious about my lack of updates, read on:**

Right now school is really taking names and kicking ass, aka, my ass. It's the end of the school year; I'm sure most of you know what I mean. Basically, this is why the updates have been nonexistent. I have one class I am trying to pull my grade up to, against all odds, and in another I have a massive research report, which will murder my grade savagely, and unflinchingly, if I don't do it.

Not to mention, I've found myself at a total standstill in the middle of the chapter. It's one of those things where you _know _what's going to happen, it's just when you put it in words, it'd awkward and tedious. I wish I could post just the beginning, but the effect of it will be ruined. Just trust me on this; you're going to want to read the whole thing. Otherwise my point can't be made.

So, I know I suck right now, but hopefully I'll be able to work on it this weekend, when I have less homework. I don't know. Fingers crossed, you guys. Thanks for the splendiferous patience, and reviews, and alerts, and everything else!

AND BECAUSE YOU PEOPLE ARE SO GODDAMN CLASSY, I HAVE A SNIPPET OF THE NEXT CHAPTER. BECAUSE I AM A PRICKTEASE LIKE THAT:

"What do you dream about, Bella?"

"Oh, nothing really," she said. Pink brightened her face. I didn't believe her.

I felt a smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. "Come on. Tell me."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because. You made me curious. Tell me."

"Uh-uh."

"Why not?"

She unhooked the hair from behind her ear the hide her face. "I don't remember."

It was with out any rational thought, that I reached forward, and re-tucked the hair behind her ear, so I could see her face. And then, again, when I dropped my hand from her face, I slid my fingers against her cheek, just to know what it felt like, to have Bella's skin against my own.

Bella was staring at me. She'd turned her face into my hand, as I withdrew it. Her stare was intent.

"How do you not remember any of your dreams?" I said. I tried to smile, but it fell flat. My hand was still tingling, and my heart racing.

"Um, I don't know. They're just not very interesting."

_

_

Yes, so now you can see the direction I am heading. Ah, how I love the smell of sexual tension in the morning.


	13. Chapter 13

First, I have to thank _medievalaggression _for being awesome and beta-reading this chapter for me. 

_Previously: Bella finds herself trapped at Edward's house, due to a storm that passes over their area. This results in a blackout, and Bella struggling, and somewhat succeeding in getting closer to Edward. The chapter ends with Bella falling asleep._

**Chapter 13  
**

**Edward**

After Tanya, a lot had changed for me. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I didn't think. I didn't breathe.

I needed to disappear and become nobody. It would be heaven if I could just evaporate like fog on glass and retreat into nothingness. I hadn't eaten because the emptiness felt good and cold and bitter and I knew that was how Tanya was feeling –she was empty too. I didn't sleep because Tanya couldn't (I'd left her eyes open). I didn't think because my head was as empty as my belly and I wasn't here anymore --I was with Tanya; that was the last I had felt myself, anyway.

It'd been three days of being alone with myself. I was on the verge of ripping my hair out. I slipped out of the house at seven-thirty (after Dad left and before Mom got up) and left a note saying that I was going to school. I trudged through the rain and was glad for my numb face and toes and fingers. I liked the hurt.

Alice was the first to see me when I arrived. She touched my arm with one hand delicately, like I was made of china. Her eyes widened and she said, "Edward, you really shouldn't be here."

"I want to, though," I said. My voice tasted funny in my mouth.

"Edward," she said again, quietly, "I think you still need more time. You look terrible."

I stared down at her.

"Are you okay?"

I moved my arm away from her hand. "Yeah," I said. "See ya, Alice."

I turned away from her, and walked out of the parking lot, and didn't look back. I walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked. All I did for miles and hours was walk and breathe, and put one foot in front of the other.

The road I found myself on was lined by prim, square houses, each one just like the one before it, on one side, and a deep ravine down the other. At the bottom of the ravine was a chain link fence that went on for miles in both directions up the road. Beyond that were big trees, tall, still, and photosynthesizing.

I found it. I was not looking for it, but I found it. Or maybe I was looking for it without knowing. Everything was so out of place –as if someone shook my head up like a snow globe and all the little glittering bits were still in motion, still churning, still a blizzard.

The car was no longer there—it had been fished it out— but the fence was still mangled. That one pole –_the _pole- was completely gone. Yellow caution laced up the gaping hole—a mere flesh wound.

It looked as if nothing of importance had happened here. Maybe the weather did it. Maybe some vandals. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. But who knows?

I slowly made my way down the ditch in a half-crouch one hand on the side so I wouldn't slip and tumble right into death. Maybe I wanted that though. Maybe I'd like to have a reunion with Tanya and see her one last time. Maybe for enough time to apologize. Or time enough to love her better. Or maybe time enough to tell her it should have been me.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

I reached the bottom of where the car had raped the fence. I felt the cool metal cross-hatchings. I expected it to feel hot, angry, scary, tangy, like the taste in my mouth that night. But it was cold. Rough. Tasteless. I dropped my hand and there was nothing there. I could feel it. Tanya wasn't there. I wasn't there. It didn't add up, though. That was the last place I'd left Tanya and myself. I'd retraced my steps precisely. That was where they should have been.

oO0Oo

It was so quiet I could feel it in my ears like pressure on a descending plane. The rain had slowed at this point to a faint drizzle. Bella snored softly. I rolled over on my side after laying on my back on stiff as a board for over an hour. An hour and twelve minutes exactly. I'd been counting.

Bella's face was hard to see. My room was too dark. I could just see the dark lines of her eyelashes against her cheek, the part between her lips, a curl of dark hair against her temple. She looked so peaceful. Even her brow was smooth for once.

I felt an urge to roll back over the other way so I couldn't look at her. I shouldn't have let myself. I should have resisted. It wasn't right.

But I wanted her.

I.

_Wanted_.

Her.

That was it. I had to get up and out of that room. I needed to breathe some fresh air and get my blood flowing. Not that my heart wasn't hammering in my chest. I needed something to drink.

I padded downstairs as noiselessly as I could manage. What I was really looking for was a distraction. Maybe if I could just clear my head, I would fall asleep and stop thinking _BellaBellaBellaBellaBella_.

Thinking about Bella was dangerous. I could feel my molecules changing, transforming. I could feel the creaking snap of bones twisting and the twanging strain of muscle reshaping. I was turning into a whole new person. And I didn't like it. I may not have liked the way I was, but it was familiar. Safe. With change came the unknown, like a snow whipped mountain –and I was the poorly equipped climber. There was no way I could make it out alive.

But why, then, did I feel so much hope around her? Why did I feel like it wouldn't be so bad, and the water wasn't so cold, the cliff face not so sheer? How did she melt the snow and ice where she walked? Why did she make me want to do things that I'd had no problem not wanting to do for so long? How could she have broken me? It was like she'd dug her fingers between the rungs of my ribs and cracked them wide open –a Pandora's Box of blood, guts, and Tanya. And it was worse, because there was a part of me that was glad Bella was ripping me open so recklessly.

I was beginning to realize how much I'd lost track of what it felt like to have healthy emotions. What was wrong and right to feel? If Bella had never moved here, I probably would never have had to ask myself this and wouldn't be in this position of questioning my own judgment.

But did I actually wish that Bella never moved here? The accompanying hurt with that thought was surprising. I was more than just infatuated with her –I was attached.

I opened the fridge and got the carton of milk, and poured myself a tall glass.

What was I going to do about Bella? What _could_ I even do about Bella? What could I feasibly do? Befriending her was about as far as I felt completely capable of doing, but it was not enough either. Could I stand to walk in the teetering existence between the two, the thin wire it was?

Not likely. That line was completely temporary –you were meant to fall off one side or the other. It wasn't built to last. What was I supposed to do, then?

Unfortunately there was nothing in my immediate vicinity to bang my head against and bang out all these muddled and confusing things in my head and from under my skin. Alas, I was left with my glass of milk to down alone.

After finishing my glass of milk, I rinsed it out, and put it in the half-full dishwasher. I paced around the kitchen. I finally made the decision to call Emmett.

It rang eight and a half times before he picked up.

"Why the bastard fucking hell are you calling me at fucking three in the goddamn morning?"

"This is a crisis," I said, voice even. "You have to help me out."

"Fuck," Emmett said. "I don't have to do jack shit at three in the fucking morning."

"Come on. Please."

"Ah, fuck," Emmett sighed. I could hear bedsprings creak, as he rolled over, or sat up. "This better be fucking good."

"I think I –I. Uh. I like Bella," I finally was able to blurt out.

"Are you shitting me?" Emmett said. "You called me at three in the morning because –Hallelujah- you _like _Bella?"

I rubbed my fore head with my hand. "Okay –I more than like her. But. Uh. I don't know what to do."

He sighed, loudly. His voice sounded muffled when he spoke now. "What the Christ, Ed. What. The. Christ. I'd been under the impression that you sort of knew what to do when you More Than Like a girl."

"Well. I do. But not really. This isn't normal for me. I—"

"What!?" Emmett whisper yelled. "Edward you stupid little shit! Jesus Christ! Okay: _this _is normal for you. Everything else –the insomnia, and all the other weird shit you've been going through _is not normal. _More Than Liking Bella is normal. That's why you have to take the plunge and ask her out already."

"Emmett," I said, "I can't."

"Well, I don't know, Ed. It's your thing to figure out." His voice was starting to slur more, and the bedsprings creaked again. I pictured him slumping back in bed. "Do whatever feels right, I guess."

"But I don't even know what is right," I said.

He yawned. "She's just a girl, Ed. Plenty of 'em. Fish and all that." He finished with a second yawn.

I spluttered, unable to join the idea of Bella and just-a-girl. "Emmett –no. You don't even –You know what? That is just –I can't believe—"I stopped myself to articulate a discernible sentence. "She's not just a girl. If she was, none of this would be happening."

He laughed. "You're acting like she infected you with herpes."

I rolled my eyes. "You aren't helping."

"Sorry," he said, unapologetically. "That's all I've got. Besides, it's your business anyway."

I started to feel panicky. I couldn't figure this out for myself. There was no way. How did Emmett not have a plethora of advice to share? He was currently dating, after all, and I hadn't been on a single date, much less had a crush for ages. How was I expected to just know what I was doing like I'd been doing this all along?

"You there?" Emmett said.

I struggled to regain composure. "Is that it?"

"Is what 'it'?"

"Your advice. That's all you have."

"Yeah, pretty much."

I didn't say anything. Somehow I was still hopeful that Emmett would suddenly come up with something brilliant and useful to tell me, but all that he said was, "I'm tired. See you later," and hung up.

I stood there listening to the dial tone. I looked at the phone, as if expecting it to ring –wishful thinking- and set it on the counter.

I wondered what would happen if I did follow Emmett's advice. Tell her how I feel. Ask her out. Kiss her. Fall in love with her.

Something shot through me at my imaginings, hard and fast like lightening –a shock to remind me that it wasn't okay to think like that. I couldn't just get away with being alive while she wasn't. I had to face some kind of penalty beyond eternal mourning –it really wasn't fair that Tanya was dead and all I'd had to deal with was a few lacerations to the forehead and bit of insomnia. What did that really amount to? At least I got to _exist. _Now _this_, however –this thing with Bella. That was really a nice bit of karma. I couldn't do anything with her, and yet, I had to. Every cell in my being sang at her mere glance, and yet I had to steel myself against it. I couldn't let myself be a normal person.

I had to stop thinking about it. It was A) giving me a mind blowing head ache, and B) depressing. I went to watch TV in the living room, in hopes that it would eventually lull me to sleep. It didn't really. Mostly infomercials were on. I watched a few episodes of _Jack Ass, _but even that started to depress me. I finally turned the TV off and lay on the couch for a while. I tried to imagine sinking into it like vapor or a ghost. Through the fabric, the stuffing, the springs, and the floor, I would descend. I would lie, just like this, on my back, hands laced on my stomach until I found my own grave, beneath the concrete basement floor. I would let out a sigh of contentment and close my eyes and slip away.

I opened my eyes. This was more depressing than when the TV had been on. I got up from the couch, and wandered about the first floor, then went back upstairs to check in on Bella. She was still sound asleep, now though curled up on her other side. She was twitching and making small noises. I drew closer to her, fascinated. She was so incredibly asleep.

I knelt down so my chin rested on the mattress. My fingers gripped the edges. She didn't seem to have noticed or minded my presence. Maybe she was just ignoring it. Could you intentionally ignore some one in your sleep? I couldn't remember. "What are you dreaming about, Bella?" I whispered.

Her answer was a sigh. She rolled over the other way, so she was facing me. I jerked back, startled by the movement. She opened her eyes. I froze. "Uh," I said. All my reasons for looking at her sleep were lodged in my throat.

She blinked blearily. "Hm?" she hummed quietly and closed her eyes again.

"Bella?" I whispered.

Nothing.

I sighed and sat back. Relief pounded in my chest. I hoped she wouldn't wake in the morning –well, later in the morning- and remember.

I went to go take a shower, more as something to do than anything else. Insomnia does that –nights are endless and the day isn't long enough. I turned the hot water all the way up until my toes curled from the heat and stood under the spray until the hot water ran out and I was standing under a frigid downpour. Even then, I savored the feeling. It took my fingers turning purple and my teeth clattering to get myself out. I dried off and put on clean clothes before wandering back out into the drafty hallway.

_BellaBellaBellaBellaBella. _

Oh, God. I wasn't getting anywhere. If anything it was getting worse. I went back downstairs. I was afraid to be near Bella. I was afraid to think about Bella. But she was all I could think about and she was the only person I wanted to be around. Why? That was all I wanted to know. Why did this have to happen? And why couldn't this just be easy? Why couldn't I just do what Emmett told me to do? Why couldn't I just make myself do something about my situation?

I laid on the couch again in the living room, but didn't turn on the TV. I wished there was a way to turn off my thoughts, like the handle on a faucet. If I could just stop thinking so much, maybe, then I would finally sleep. If only I could sleep as deeply, as easily as Bella did.

I sighed. I tried to feel relaxed. I _did _feel tired. It was just a matter of falling asleep, at this point. Which was all it took to keep me awake for days. But no. Tonight I needed to sleep. I wanted to sleep, so I could be normal. I wanted to sleep so I could let what I felt in my bones should happen to me and Bella. I wanted to not have Tanya hanging over my head in wait for the moment I should feel the smallest bit better. I wanted to be sure and healthy.

Somehow, then, while I was unaware, I tripped and fell right into sleep.

oO0Oo

In my dream, I'd been sitting in front of Tanya. Everything was dark, except for us –for some reason we were illuminated. That hardly mattered to me; I was looking at Tanya anyway. We were having a conversation, and she told me she was really hurt and disappointed by something I did, but I didn't know what I did, and she wouldn't tell me. "Edward," she said, "I think it's really inappropriate that you're joking around about this. I'm serious."

"So am I," I said. "I don't know what I did." I put my hand on her knee. "Please, can you tell me?"

She pushed my hand off her knee. "This is no time to be flirtatious Edward. I can't believe you."

"Tell me," I insisted.

"I don't get you," Tanya said. She rose slowly to her feet, and the light over her flickered for a moment and suddenly she was Bella.

I stared, surprised to see her but not confused, in that way that you never seem to be in dreams.

"One day, I hope you open your eyes, Edward," Bella said, in Tanya's voice. "I hope you see what's become of you." She turned and walked away.

I awoke with a start and my forehead cracked against something hard.

"Ow," Bella said.

"Christ," I said, in return. I put my hand against my head. My heart was pounding for some reason. I knew I'd just been dreaming, _but of what? _

"I'm sorry," Bella said. Her own hand was rubbing where she'd hit her head against mine. "I didn't think you were going to do that."

"Wake up?" I said, sitting up.

"No, I mean attack me with your granite forehead."

"I've been know to do that," I said. "Why were you leaning over me like that?"

She blushed. Her hair was pulled back into a hasty pony tail and her eyes were still puffy with sleep. "Sorry. I need to call Charlie and I don't know where your phone is."

I led her to the kitchen and handed her the phone. While she talked to Charlie, I tried to think of something to do so I wouldn't just be standing around feeling kind of awkward. But I just ended up standing around feeling awkward until her phone call was over. She put the phone down on the counter.

"So," she said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said. It wasn't really a lie. I slept well for the time that I was asleep. "You?"

"I slept fine," she said.

Quiet.

_Say something. _"Do you want anything to eat?" I repressed a wince. And to think how easy it had been last night. All my thinking hadn't done me any good. I knew it wouldn't.

She leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms. "Sure."

I would have done something elaborate –like, pancakes, or waffles, or even just scrambled eggs- to impress her. But my breakfast making skills were limited to pouring a bowl of cereal, or setting the right level of heat on the toaster, for a Pop Tart. I went to the cereal cabinet. "What do you feel like having?" I asked.

I felt her walk up, and stand just behind me. I couldn't help it. I turned to look at her. She was standing very close to me. Her cheeks were red. Her dark eyes were big. Her lips chapped. She smiled, just a little. She was beautiful.

I swallowed hard.

"I'll just have whatever you're having," she said. She stepped back, as I moved to get two bowls, from a different cabinet. I remembered last night, how close I stood in front of her, and the feeling in my palms that I could do just about anything in that moment. Wouldn't it be great if I felt like that all the time? Did she feel it too? I peeked at her side long. Sometimes I thought so.

I finished pouring the two bowls, and filled them to almost over flowing, with milk. When I was little we used to have these bowls with straws attached to the insides, just for the purpose of drinking the rest of the cereal residue and milk. I mourned the loss of them. I told Bella this as I put the bowls on the table. She sat down. I realized, too late, that I had put her bowl in the place next to mine, rather than across. I then realized that I didn't really mind.

Bella smiled. "When I was little, my mom went through this whole health nut phase, and she decided she didn't want me eating cereal because of the sugar or something. She made whole grain, vegan, sugar free waffles for me every morning instead. They tasted like cardboard." She stuck a spoonful of Captain Crunch in her mouth. Milk dribbled down her chin. I looked away.

"At least you could use syrup," I said.

She snorted. "Not really. That would sort of defeat the purpose of the waffles, wouldn't it?"

"I guess," I said. "Unless it was sugar free."

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that possible?"

"Not any less than dividing by zero," I said.

"Funny," she said, rolling her eyes. "Real clever."

I shrugged.

"When did you go to sleep?" she said, suddenly.

"Uh. I don't know. After you did."

"Yeah, I figured. You were sleeping down here."

I took in a spoon of cereal, chewed and swallowed. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I was just wondering. Was I talking too much? Was that why you went downstairs?"

_I went downstairs because I wanted to be near you while I slept, but I couldn't, and I was afraid. _"I just was having trouble sleeping on the floor. What do you mean 'talking'?"

Her face flushed. "Oh, I just have this habit of talking in my sleep."

"Sleep is a strange thing," I said.

"It's very mysterious," she said. "You know scientists don't even know what the purpose of dreams is. Like, scientifically or biologically."

"What do you think it is?"

She hummed to herself thoughtfully. "I think it's to help sort out all the things in our heads that we can't put together when we're in control of what we're thinking."

I considered this for a moment. "My dreams never make any sense. When I dream that is. And when I remember them." For example, the dream I had last night. So far I all I'd been able to dredge up from my memory of it was darkness.

She chewed her mouthful of cereal. "Maybe you just really have to think about what they mean. Maybe they don't mean anything." She shrugged. "Like I said –dreams are mysterious."

"I guess," I said, grudgingly. Now that Bella had put it in my head, I wanted my dreams to mean something. "What do you dream about, Bella?"

"Oh, nothing really," she said. Pink brightened her face. I didn't believe her.

I felt a smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. "Come on. Tell me."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because. You made me curious. Tell me."

"Uh-uh."

"Why not?"

She unhooked the hair from behind her ear to hide her face. "I don't remember."

It was with out any rational thought, that I reached forward, and re-tucked the hair behind her ear, so I could see her face. And then, again, when I dropped my hand from her face, I slid my fingers against her cheek, just to know what it felt like, to have Bella's skin against my own.

Bella was staring at me. She'd turned her face into my hand as I withdrew it. Her stare was intent.

"How do you not remember any of your dreams?" I said. I tried to smile, but it fell flat. My hand was still tingling and my heart racing.

"Um, I don't know. They're just not very interesting."

"Good morning!" Mom said, as she swept into the kitchen.

It took me a moment to respond. "Hey, Mom."

Bella looked almost relieved. I pressed my lips together. If she thought I was about to let it drop, she didn't know me very well.

--

After we both finished breakfast, I offered to drive Bella home. I sat on the steps while we waited for Bella while she got her shoes. Mom came over and handed me a coffee mug identical to her own.

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked me.

"Some," I admitted. I took a long gulp. It burned the roof of my mouth, but I already felt more awake having the caffeine in me.

She nodded, and looked up the stairwell. "Good. You two already had breakfast right?" she said.

"Yes."

She nodded. "Try to get some rest today, all right? You've been looking pretty worn out lately."

"I slept last night, though."

"Edward," she said, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you." She went back into the kitchen.

I sipped my coffee.

Bella came down stairs, sans shoes. "I couldn't find them up there. I think I left them outside."

"Outside, where there was a raging hurricane last night, you mean?"

Bella groaned. "Of course."

"Don't worry," I said, remembering something. "So did I."

Both our shoes were intact and on the porch –though I found one of my shoes on the other side of the deck, sopping wet. I opted to go barefoot, though Bella put on her shoes anyway.

As we drove, I thought. On the one hand, there was that part of me that told me it was greedy and wrong for me to want to stay with Bella and to like her. However, on the other hand, I wasn't done with Bella and I liked her and I was selfish enough not to care that I was damaged goods, and was staying that way and she didn't even know. I came to a decision as I pulled up in front of Bella's house.

"Thanks for letting me stay at your house and everything," Bella said, breaking me from my thoughts. Her hand was on the handle, but she didn't move. She smiled timidly.

"No problem. It wasn't like I was about to let you out into that storm." I offered a smile back.

She looked down at her lap and pushed the door open.

"Wait" I quickly said, before she could leave. "Listen, I was just thinking maybe we could practice some more –for the ten K. It's next week."

"Yeah, of course. When do you want to?" She seemed confused that I was bringing this up now.

"Well, today would be good." I wanted to take it back as soon as the words left my mouth. _You shouldn't have said that. _

"Yeah, that would be fine," Bella said. She beamed at me. "Call me when you come over, okay?"

"Sure," I said. I felt dazed –surprised I guess by her easy acceptance.

"Bye, Edward," she said, before slipping out of the car and jogging up to her front door. I stayed to watch her reach for the key from the eaves and open the door –it stuck, so she had to shove it with her shoulder. She turned back around and saw me. She smiled and waved. I sighed and drove home.

oO0Oo

_What are you doing here, Edward? _I wondered to myself. I gripped the steering wheel until my finger tips turned red and my knuckles white. My heart was racing.

"I'm picking up Bella," I said, in answer to the question still ringing in my head. I got out of my car and went up to Bella's door. I didn't even let myself hesitate before knocking.

Bella answered. Her hair was wet, but she was wearing shorts and a faded concert t-shirt. "Come in," she said. "I'll be ready in a minute."

I stood by the door while Bella disappeared upstairs. Their living room was just to the right of me. I peeked inside. For some reason, I expected to see some perceptible change –much like the last time I'd been at her house- from pre-Bella and post-Bella. It was the same navy and green plaid couch with the sunken cushions. The same TV. The same frayed arm chair. The same gathering of photos on the walls.

I squinted to see them better. How many times had I looked at them when we joined Charlie for a barbeque or dinner? I tried to remember what my opinion of Bella had been before meeting her. Did I think she looked more than just pretty? Did I see her smile held a million secrets? Could I tell her presence could make your bones feel electric?

"Edward?"

I jerked, startled. "Yeah?" She was standing right next to me.

"Sorry. So I'm ready to go."

I tried not to think too much, because the more I thought, the less sure I was of myself. A colony of angry bees swarmed and buzzed in my head. _Say something to her. Smile. Say something funny. Make her laugh. Why is it so quiet? _

Alice had called me, telling me via Rosalie, who'd heard via Emmett, that I More Than Liked Bella. "Okayokayokay. This is –oh my God. Words? There aren't any."

"Alice, you are blowing this way out of proportion." I rolled my eyes. If Alice was blowing this out of proportion, I didn't want to know what I was doing.

"No I am _not,_" she said. "God, I just want to kick you sometimes. You lying little jerk, you _know _what this is."

I sighed. There were so many conversations I'd rather be having with Alice than this one. She was melodramtic. And yelled. And when I didn't comply, called me names. And yelled. And was melodramatic. "Thanks for the input, but I have to take a shower."

"Edward, this conversation _cannot _wait!" I held the phone a safe distance away from my ear so my ear drum wouldn't blow out. "We need to talk about this!"

"Why?"

She didn't seem to have a real answer. She spluttered and acted outraged. I finally said I had to finish getting ready for my date with Bella because I was going to be late. I hung up, before she could say anything else. _What have you just done? _

I was still worrying over the repercussions of that conversation, while I drove Bella. While it seemed like a good idea at the time, now I wondered why I'd thought that at all. I was glad I'd forgotten my phone at home.

"Where are we going?" Bella asked. Her head was turned toward the window.

"This place we used to go hiking and camping all the time. It's not that long of a drive." Suddenly I wondered if this was a bad idea. I'd been having a lot of those lately. And on top of that I was questioning my judgment. Then, I came to the realization that chances were, Bella didn't feel the same way at all. Here I'd been so worried about myself, and I didn't even think that Bella might think I was weird or pathetic or whatever it was. She had plenty to choose from.

"How come we're going there?" She turned to look at me, and she didn't look like she thought I was weird or pathetic.

"I don't know," I said. In part it was because I thought that maybe if I got her out of the confines of either my or her house, I would be able to clear my head and see that this was all in fact pretty stupid of me and Bella and I could never work out and I wasn't meant for this level of happiness and Bella should give it to some one whole. "I thought it would be better than just running around the block. That can get pretty monotonous."

Bella turned her face back to the window. In her reflection, I saw her squint her eyes, thinking, and purse her lips. "Do you go camping a lot?"

"Not as much any more. When I was younger we used to go a lot with a bunch of families. Emmett's and mine went the most together."

"How come you stopped?"

"We haven't," I was quick to say. "It's just been less often."

"Oh," she said, and turned to look back out the window.

"What was it like when you visited the Chief before you moved here?" I asked. "Did you hate Forks then, too?"

Her reflection made a face. "I don't hate Forks," she said.

I raised my eyebrows. "Since when?"

She shrugged. "It's just grown on me."

I glanced at her profile. Her cheeks were all pink, and her lips all pressed together, like she was thinking really hard about something embarrassing. I guess it'd grown on me too.

oO0Oo

"Want to know something kind of weird?" Bella asked, as we got out of my car. Our sneakers crunched on the gravel in the empty parking lot. She vised her eyes against the sun, with her hand.

"How weird?" I asked. "Do I want to know?"

She spoke, as if I had said nothing. "Before now, I'd never seen mountains before."

"You're right. That is weird."

"On a scale of one to ten, how weird? Ten being mind-bendingly weird."

"Eleven."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not that weird."

"Yes. Yes it is. That's like saying –like saying you've never seen snow before, or something like that. I'm appalled, really," I said.

She burst into laughter, at that.

I raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

She laughed again. "It's just, I'd never seen snow before moving here, either."

"That is ridiculous," I said. "Do you realize how much of nature you've been missing out on?"

"Give me a break. Plenty of people have never seen snow before."

"You're right. Probably just as many people as people who haven't seen mountains before either."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought we were here to practice for the race."

I lead her up to the trailhead, choosing not to retort.

I hadn't remembered the trail being as long as it was. Bella was good for conversation though. Once she started talking, I was finding it difficult to stop asking her questions. I also realized how little I really even knew about Bella.

"Did you have a lot of friends at your school?" I asked her, after she made an offhand comment about her high school back home.

"Not really. I mean, I had a couple, but I wasn't even very close to them. I wasn't really like anyone there." She squinted her eyes to see up ahead better. "How much longer do we have to go?"

"Not much," I assured her. "So you never call them or anything? Your friends?"

She sighed. "No. I never really saw them outside of school anyway, so…"

"It's not much of a loss?"

"Yeah. I guess not."

I tried to imagine that –having no one except yourself. It pained me to think of Bella as that lonely. "This is probably kind of weird then, isn't it –spending so much time with us Forkians. You must be dying to get back to Arizona."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sort of used to it by now."

"What were your friends like?"

"Quiet. Bookish. Nice. I don't know. Nothing special." She shrugged.

"Wow. Cold."

"It's not," she protested. "I mean, I was just like them, you know? But, nothing really came out of it."

"Huh," I said. We reached the five mile marker, at that point, much like how we'd passed the one, two, three, and four mile markers.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Because I'm challenging you to a race."

She literally went white –something I'd never thought I'd see from Bella the Blushing Queen. "What? Why?" she said, in a thin voice.

I couldn't help it –I laughed. "This is just practice, Bella. Relax."

"But," she said, "I'm not ready yet."

"That's why we're doing it." I drew a line in the dirt, with the tip of my shoe. "The finish line is the four mile marker. Are you ready?"

She swallowed. "Not really. But if that's why we're doing this I don't know why you're even asking."

I suppressed a smile. "Okay. On your mark, get set… go!"

Bella immediately shot ahead, running helter-skelter, as if her very life depended on it. I let her stay ahead for a while, but soon she started to slow down, and I sped up. I passed her easily and made it to the marker. I leaned against it, catching my breath. I watched Bella come back into my view. She was hardly running –if you could call it that. It was more of a desperate shuffle.

When she neared the marker, she doubled over, her hands braced on her knees. Her back heaved, with labored breath.

"Are you okay?" I asked, having caught my own breath. "Maybe you should sit down," I suggested. I was starting to feel concerned. What if she had asthma? And I hadn't even thought to ask? Was she going to pass out? Why hadn't she told me? Unless she didn't know, or it was something worse, like lung cancer or emphysema.

Bella sat, and I hurried to take a seat beside her. It was a few moments before she spoke, but her breathing –thankfully- slowed to normalcy.  
"I can't believe you just beat me like that," she groaned. "I was ahead and everything! What happened?"

I shrugged. "You used up all your energy in the beginning. You got tired."

She cussed under her breath. "I should have thought of that."

I shrugged.

"Why did we hike all the way out here, anyway?" she asked. She lay back, propping herself on her elbows.

"Because this is five miles out. So, now you know what half the distance of the race is going to feel like."

"Oh," she said. Then realization dawned on her face. "It's _that _far?"

I nodded, slowly.

"Ugh," she said.

"You signed up for this race," I pointed out.

She made a face.

"What's that look supposed to mean? Am I wrong?"

"_No_." She rolled her eyes, and lay down all the way. "It didn't mean anything."

"Yes, it did."

"Do you always interrogate your friends like this?" The quirk of her lips was the only clue I had that she was joking, though the tone of her voice was contrarily serious.

I considered my answer carefully. "Only when I know they're hiding something from me."

Bella glanced at my face then away. "Everyone is keeping something from somebody," she said. She glanced my way again, her expression more pointed this time.

It made sense, since I was trying to hide a lot from Bella. It didn't sit well with me that she could so clearly see this, but the fact remained that she could merely tell I was hiding things from her and not what it was that I was hiding. But it wasn't like I was the only one who was hiding behind a mask. "You hide a lot from me, too, though," I said. "I don't think you trust me." Though I hadn't put a whole lot of thought to it, it seemed like she was holding out on me, while she asked me to divulge my most internal of innards to her. Worse yet, I'd obliged.

"I think _you _don't trust _me_," she said, absently. She squinted her eyes against the glare of the sun.

"How is that?" I asked, though I could barely compose my voice, against my near outrage. I was absolutely placing every bit of trust I had in her –against my own better judgment. Was I not letting myself fall all these different ways for her? Did I not tell her about Tanya? Did she not see that? _How can you not see that _I do_? _I wanted to ask.

"You do the same thing you're accusing me of. You hold out on me –like, you'll say these half-truths, so you're not lying, and so you don't have to tell me the whole thing." She picked a tiny, white daisy at her side, and twisted it in her fingers. Her cheeks were red. She wouldn't look at me.

"I don't think you see how much I trust you," I admitted, softly. My voice barely managed to eke its way out my throat.

She looked at me and sat up slowly. Once she was sitting up fully, I realized how close we were sitting. How easy would it be to just reach out one hand and touch her cheek, as I had this morning? Or even to just kiss her? How hard could it be? I felt my spine go rigid at the thought.

I wouldn't let myself do that. We could be just friends and it would just be air between us –nothing else- and I could talk to her, just like that –like there was air between us and nothing else.

Except of course when she was looking at me like that. She was so serious, and so still, and her eyes bored into mine, as if all my ugly secrets could be plainly seen through the screen of my eyes. She covered my hand with her own, and said, "I trust you too."

My heart thrashed around my ribcage. _Stopstopstopstopstop this, _it sputtered. _This is bad. It hurts. _Brain told Heart it was okay. They were just hands. Hands are hands are hands are hands. Except when they're touching other people's hands. I gently withdrew my hand from under hers. "So then I guess we're on the same page, then," I said a little too lightly.

Her eyes were still serious, as if I'd never spoken. "Ask me what I dreamed about."

I hesitated. The way she asked me made me not want to know. "It's okay –you don't have to tell me that."

Her eyebrows came together. "Ask me," she insisted.

I almost did. "We should go," I said. "It's getting late." I stood up, and offered her my hand.

She looked shocked, like I'd just slapped her. She rose to her feet, ignoring my hand, and strode ahead of me, toward where we'd come. I stood rooted to the spot, before I could get my feet to work. We didn't talk for the rest of the hike back to the car. Even though I sort of knew why she wasn't talking to me, I didn't feel like rejecting her proposition –so to speak- warranted this reaction.

Once we got to my car, I had to breach the silence. "Are you mad at me?" I asked.

She shook her head, and leaned against the passenger door of my car. She avoided my eyes.

"Look, Bella –" I started to say, then stopped, not sure of how I was about to finish. "The car's unlocked."

The drive home was weird –as in unbearably silent. I turned up the volume on the music, but it didn't help. I would glance at Bella every now and then, but she never seemed to be looking at me. What could I say? What did she _want _me to say? I couldn't very well ask her then, because that was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"What's wrong with us, Edward?" Bella said. She was still looking out the window, and if she hadn't said my name I'm not sure I would've known it was me she was talking to.

"Uh. What do you mean?" I asked, even though I definitely knew what she meant.

She sighed. "I don't know. I'm sorry I got mad."

I felt like I should apologize too, because it was really my fault that she got mad in the first place. But then I would I have say too much, and admit to what I did. So I said nothing.

oO0Oo

Emmett has a knack for showing up unannounced and unapologetic. In fact, he was at my house, and had probably been there when I got home from dropping Bella off. He opened the door as I was unlocking it.

"Is your phone broke?" he demanded.

"Why are you here?"

"Answer the question, Masen."

"No?" I sidestepped around him. "Can you leave, Emmett? I don't feel like talking to you."

"Fuck your feelings, okay? Why don't you answer your phone?"

I went into the kitchen in hopes of evading Emmett. I had no such luck.

"I didn't have it with me." I took out a bag of Doritos from a cabinet. I unfurled the top of the bag, only to discover that the bag was empty.

"I ate those, by the way, while I was waiting for you to get back from your date," Emmett told me. He beamed, smugly.

"What date?" I asked, while I pitched the bag in the garbage. He shoots, he… misses. I picked the bag off the floor, and put it in the bin.

"A little bird named Alice told me you and Bella were going on a date," Emmett said. With the level of smugness that was literally radiating from him, you'd think he'd have been rubbing his hands together, and maybe laughing. But he was pretty composed. Which Emmett had nothing to do with usually.

"It wasn't a date," I told him.

"Whatever. The whole reason I'm here –thanks for asking- is because Jasper's game is tomorrow."

Game? "What game?"

Emmett raised his eyebrows. "His first game of the season? What do you think I'm talking about?"

"Oh. Right," I said. I'd forgotten all about pretty much everything except for my own little melodrama. "So… what about Jasper's game tomorrow?"

"Well, it was moved, because of the storm last night. Flooding, or some shit, in the field. So, they have to use a different one. I'm going to be here at the ass crack of dawn, Eddie-boy, so you better be in beast mode when I get here."

"Right. Why do we have to be in beast mode? Isn't Jasper the one who should be beasting?"

"Firstly it's beastin' –there is a difference. Secondly, of course we have to be in beast mode. I mean, we might as well not go if we aren't beastly, okay?" He took a can of beer from the fridge, gave me a mock salute, and left.

oO0Oo

Tanya came to pick me up at my house, for this date. It was pouring, like I'd never seen it pour before. I was totally soaked by the time I got to her car parked on the curb. We didn't say anything. I don't what it was, but I felt like if I spoke, I'd be disturbing the peace.

She pulled over suddenly, on the side of the road. We listened to the windshield wipers swaying back and forth over the window and never quite clearing it. We listened to the hum of the engine. We listened to the rain tapping all over the car, our bubble. But mostly we listened to our breath. She put her hand on my cheek, and I turned to look at her. We kissed. It felt like we were at the center of the universe, floating in black, and all there was, was us. We expanded and super nova-ed and imploded.

Tanya pulled away from me, slowly, and her eyes were all shiny. She stroked my cheek.

"Are you okay?" I whispered. I wiped a tear away that had slipped out of the corner of her eye. "Why are you crying?"

She kissed me softly once more, and said. "I'm fine now."

We straightened up, and she drove the rest of the drive to Port Angeles, with out saying another word. It was then I knew that she was more than I'd expected. Even though I couldn't have predicted she would be everything.

**A/N: I just would like to deeply apologize for how effing long it took to get this chapter posted. I'll just say that I had an intensely busy summer. **

**I would also like to say that this was nominated for the Indie Twific Awards, and I'm very thankful for that (however long ago that was). I never thought that this fic would get that type of recognition, so it's pretty dang awesome. So thanks to whoever did the nominations!  
**


	14. Chapter 14

So you guys this is an authors note, to explain the utter absence of updates in the past six months, and why I don't plan on fixing that problem.

The fact of the matter is that I've moved on from the world of fanfiction. Writing is absolutely my passion in life, and fanfiction was a great way for me to experiment and figure out my voice. But fanfiction was really only a stepping-stone for me. To be serious about writing, is to be original in your writing. I came to this realization during NaNoWriMo, when I started writing a new, original story that has since completely enraptured me, and has been my main focus in writing.

So now I am left with two options for the future of this fic:

I could completely delete this off the site, so no one has to stumble upon it, and read it, only to find that I'm never going to finish it, or

Leave it up here, with this note attached.

I could too describe in a two-minute summary of what happens in the end of the story, but I don't know if I could even do that. I suppose if you are desperately curious about the fate of Edward and Bella and what happened to Tanya, then you could PM me or something. Yeah.

Sorry about this :


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